Chương 3
“I’m going downstairs,” Adrian said. “I’m going to speak with Celeste. Nora will stay here. After that, I’ll come back and you can tell me anything you want to tell me. Or nothing tonight. You’re not in trouble for entering the library.”
“We took the key,” Oliver said.
“We will discuss the key later.”
“I took it,” Oliver insisted. “Not them.”
Adrian looked at the arm Oliver kept around Henry.
“I heard you.”
The private library occupied the west side of the first floor. Lena had called it the cave, though it had glass walls on two sides and afternoon sun bright enough to bleach book spines. Adrian had begun locking it after her death because the children went inside to touch her things. He told himself he was preserving them. In truth, he could not bear to enter and find the arrangement altered.
The key was not in his pocket.
He stood before the dark oak door and saw faint scratches around the lock. Not damage from a tool. A key had been used by an unsteady hand.
He tried the handle.
Unlocked.
Inside, the room smelled of paper, cedar, and the faint citrus oil the housekeeper used on Fridays. The desk lamp was on. One drawer stood open. A silver-framed photograph of Lena and the children lay facedown beside the computer.
Adrian turned it upright.
Lena was laughing at something beyond the frame. Oliver, four at the time, sat on her shoulders. Sophie had both hands in the air. Henry was a bundle against her chest.
Adrian had taken the photograph.
He touched the frame, then drew his hand back.
The drawer contained business documents, property records, insurance files, and a blue folder from Bracken Hill Therapeutic School. He had asked for information after Oliver’s fight at school. The folder was still sealed.
A printed email lay beneath it.
Adrian recognized his own name at the top and the signature of Dr. Miriam Feld, the family therapist he had consulted but never scheduled. The message summarized possible options. Outpatient family therapy came first. A grief program came second. A residential assessment was described only as a future consideration if Oliver became a danger to himself or his siblings.
Someone had underlined residential assessment in red.
A note had been written in the margin.
He needs structure before the others copy him.
The handwriting belonged to Celeste.
Adrian heard movement behind him and turned.
Nora stood in the doorway.
“I told you to stay with them.”
“Mrs. Alvarez is with them. They asked me to come.”
He held up the paper. “Did you see this?”
“No.”
“Did Oliver?”
“I don’t know.”
“Someone underlined it.”
Nora came closer but did not take the page. “That’s her handwriting.”
“You’re certain?”
“She labels the pantry lists.”
Adrian examined the open drawer. “What was she looking for?”
“Maybe that.”
“She already read it.”
“Maybe she wanted to remove it.”
He looked at the computer. The screen was dark. When he touched the keyboard, a password prompt appeared.
“Did she know my login?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
The answer came with enough offense to make him ashamed of the question.
“I’m sorry.”
“You should stop saying that every thirty seconds.”
“What would you prefer?”
“I’d prefer you notice things before they become emergencies.”
He looked at her.
Nora pressed her lips together. “That was out of line.”
“No. It wasn’t.”
A small sound came from beneath the desk. Adrian bent and found a plastic dinosaur near the wastebasket. Henry’s. One green foot had been chewed nearly flat.
“They were here,” he said.
Nora crouched beside the wastebasket. Inside were torn pieces of paper.
She reached for them, then stopped. “Maybe don’t touch anything else.”
“This is my library.”
“And Celeste threatened three children in it or because of it. You may need to show someone how you found the room.”
He straightened. “You think I should call the police.”
“I think you should call someone who knows what you’re supposed to do.”
Adrian’s instinct was to manage the problem quietly. Protect the children. Protect the family. Protect the household staff from attention. Protect the company from a headline involving a wealthy widower, an old estate, frightened children, and a woman in an evening dress holding a leather strap.
He disliked how quickly reputation entered his mind.
“My attorney,” he said.
Nora’s expression hardened.
“What?”
“Call the pediatrician first.”
“Why?”
“Because the children are the reason any of this matters.”
Dr. Helen Park answered on the fourth ring. She had been the children’s pediatrician since Oliver was born and had once told Adrian that missed appointments were also information. He had disliked her for several months afterward.
She listened without interrupting.
“Were any of them struck?” she asked.
“No.”
“Did the strap touch them?”
“No.”
“Are there marks from restraint?”
“Nora checked. We didn’t find any.”
“Do they report prior physical contact?”
“I haven’t asked in detail.”
“Good. Don’t interview them repeatedly. Ask only what you need for immediate safety. I want to examine them tonight.”
“I can bring them.”
“No. They’ve been threatened in their home. Keep them somewhere familiar. I’ll come.”
“You don’t need to—”
“I said I’ll come.”
She arrived forty minutes later wearing jeans beneath a wool coat, carrying a medical bag and a paper cup of tea. Celeste remained in the morning room. Adrian had moved a chair outside the door, though no one sat in it. The gesture made the house look like it was pretending to be a courthouse.
May you like
Dr. Park examined each child privately with Nora present. Adrian waited in the upstairs hall. From behind the closed door came low voices, then silence, then Sophie asking whether the doctor had seen the new aquarium at school. The ordinary question made Adrian sit down on the floor.
Mrs. Alvarez, the housekeeper, passed carrying folded towels. She had worked for the family for eleven years and usually treated Adrian’s presence as a scheduling inconvenience. Tonight she stopped.
