Chương 3
“Then he won’t mind not having it.”
The mansion became the final argument between them.
Emily and Daniel had been married four years when the property came onto the market. Evelyn called it a once-in-a-generation opportunity, though the house had been listed for sixteen months. Daniel wanted the address, the staircase, the acreage, and the story that came with all three. He said the Brooks family needed a permanent home again.
Their own house, a renovated six-bedroom place twenty minutes away, was apparently not permanent enough.
Daniel’s trust could not qualify for the financing. Evelyn’s remaining assets were tied up. Daniel asked Emily whether Carter Architectural could guarantee a loan.
She refused.
For three weeks, he moved through their home with careful disappointment. He did not shout. He left financial articles open on his tablet. He mentioned sacrifice. He said his mother had endured things Emily would never understand. He asked whether marriage meant building one life or maintaining separate kingdoms.
Emily bought the mansion with her inheritance through Carter House Holdings, an entity formed by Claire and a tax attorney. Daniel signed documents acknowledging that the property was separately owned, though he did not read them. He believed the entity belonged to a reorganized Brooks trust. Emily allowed him to believe it because correcting him would have produced a fight she was tired of having.
Robert, dying of pancreatic cancer by then, called it cowardice.
“You’re purchasing peace,” he told her. “Peace rented from resentment.”
He died six weeks before the closing.
Emily never told Daniel what her father had said.
At three in the morning after the police interview, she sat on the edge of a hotel bed in one of Claire’s T-shirts while Claire tried to make tea with a machine designed for coffee pods. The room overlooked a parking structure. A red light on the roof blinked at regular intervals.
Emily’s cheek had darkened. Her hair smelled faintly of clinic disinfectant.
Claire placed a mug beside her. “It tastes terrible.”
Emily took a sip. “You’re right.”
“I could order something.”
“No.”
“You should eat.”
“I had dinner.”
“You moved food around a plate while Evelyn accused you of stealing from her charitable foundation.”
“The carrots were good.”
Claire sat in the desk chair and removed her earrings. “You make jokes when you’re close to falling apart.”
“I wasn’t joking about the carrots.”
Her phone had collected thirty-seven messages.
Daniel called eleven times. Evelyn sent one text: You have made a private family matter dangerous for everyone. Caroline wrote, I’m sorry, then deleted the message, though the notification still showed enough of it to read. Grace asked whether Emily had reached a safe place. Nolan sent nothing. Peter sent a photograph of the dining table with the caption Your coat is here.
Emily stared at that one longest.
Claire watched her. “Don’t answer any of them tonight.”
“What about the security system?”
“I’ve already sent the account information to Officer Tan.”
“Daniel has administrator access.”
“Secondary access. You’re the account owner.”
“He’ll try to erase it.”
“The provider has been told to preserve everything.”
“What if he already did?”
“Then the attempt will have a record.”
Emily set down the phone. “You always make systems sound moral.”
“I don’t think systems are moral. I think they’re useful when people aren’t.”
The red light outside blinked again.
Emily removed her wedding ring. The skin beneath it was pale except where the cut crossed the base of her finger. She placed the ring on the bedside table, then immediately picked it up.
Claire said nothing.
“I don’t know why I did that.”
“You’ve been married nine years.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one you have tonight.”
Emily slipped the ring into the zippered pocket of her handbag.
She slept for forty minutes at a time. Each time she woke, she heard the slap before she remembered where she was. At five twenty, a delivery truck reversed in the alley, producing a steady electronic beep. Claire slept on top of the covers in the other bed, one arm over her eyes.
Emily opened her phone and listened to the recording once more.
Before the strike, Daniel had said something she had not heard clearly inside the foyer.
You’re not going to take this from us.
At seven, Officer Tan called.
Daniel had left the mansion before officers arrived. Evelyn denied knowing where he had gone. The six relatives confirmed that an argument occurred. None, however, admitted seeing Daniel strike Emily.
“Not one?” Emily asked.
“Caroline said she was looking toward the sitting room.”
“She was facing me.”
“Margaret said she heard a sound but couldn’t identify it. Peter said you moved suddenly. Grace cried and asked for a lawyer. The two men said they were discussing something near the stairs.”
“Nolan and Reed weren’t discussing anything.”
Officer Tan’s voice remained even. “The security provider is restoring archived footage. Someone with secondary administrator credentials attempted to delete the foyer camera history at twelve forty-three this morning.”
Emily looked across the room at Claire, who was already awake.
“Daniel?”
“The login was assigned to him. We’ll need the provider’s records before we say more.”
“Was the footage deleted?”
“Not from the archive.”
Emily pressed the phone closer.
Officer Tan continued. “The camera captured the incident. There is no audio from that device, but the image is clear.”
Claire sat up.
“Will you arrest him?” Emily asked.
“We are trying to locate him. He has also contacted counsel and offered to surrender later this morning.”
The word surrender sounded too grand for a man arranging his own arrival through an attorney.
“Thank you,” Emily said.
After the call, Claire crossed the room and opened the curtains. Gray morning light entered, exposing dust on the window glass.
“They lied,” Emily said.
“Yes.”
“All six of them.”
“Grace may still tell the truth once she has counsel.”
“She watched him hit me.”
“I know.”
“Caroline watched him hit me.”
May you like
“I know.”
Emily walked to the bathroom and studied her face under the bright mirror. The mark had become red-purple, high on the cheekbone. It looked both worse and more ordinary than she expected. There was no cinematic quality to it. It resembled an injury seen in a grocery store aisle, something strangers noticed and then decided not to notice.
