Chương 9
“There are cameras everywhere in the garage.”
Ethan nodded.
“He said that.”
“Then what?”
“I said no.”
“Good.”
“He grabbed me.”
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“Hard?”
“Not really. But I yelled.”
“And he put you inside.”
“Yes.”
“Did he lock you in?”
“He shut the hatch. Then he went around the side.”
“To drive?”
“I think.”
“What happened to the window?”
Ethan looked at Marcus.
Marcus said, “I broke it.”
Claire turned.
“What?”
“I saw him on camera getting Ethan into the vehicle. I called police and went down. Daniel was outside the SUV when I got there. The doors were locked.”
“Why?”
“He said the child lock engaged.”
“That vehicle doesn’t have a child lock on the cargo hatch.”
Marcus nodded.
“I know.”
Claire looked at Ethan.
“Was Daniel trying to get you out?”
Ethan thought.
“He was pulling the handle.”
“So why did you say he locked you in the trunk?”
“Because he put me there and it locked.”
Fair.
Children did not care about mens rea.
They cared about doors.
Claire sat down.
“What was Daniel doing?”
Marcus said, “Arguing with someone through his earbuds. Then he saw me. I grabbed the tire iron from the security cart and broke the rear glass.”
“And Daniel?”
“He didn’t stop me.”
“Why kick the luggage cart?”
“Because the police were arriving.”
“Why run?”
“Because he kidnapped a nine-year-old.”
Marcus shrugged.
“Even complicated people understand handcuffs.”
Claire turned on her phone.
Forty-three messages arrived.
She ignored them and called the police station.
Daniel’s lawyer refused to let him speak with her.
Claire called again an hour later.
Same answer.
At four in the afternoon, an unknown number called.
Claire answered.
No one spoke.
“Hello?”
She heard breathing.
A woman’s breathing.
Claire stood.
Ethan looked up from the television.
“Hello?”
The woman said, “Claire?”
The voice was older.
Rougher.
But Claire knew it.
Her body knew before her mind caught up.
She sat down hard on the edge of the hotel conference table.
Ethan muted the television.
Claire pressed the phone tighter to her ear.
“Mom?”
Silence.
Then Laura Hale began to cry.
Not loudly.
That would have been easier.
Claire heard one small broken inhale and the sound of someone trying not to make another.
Claire stared at the wall.
Nine years of imagined conversations disappeared.
She had screamed at her mother in showers.
Forgiven her while driving.
Hated her in grocery stores.
Asked her questions while falling asleep.
In none of those rehearsals had Claire begun with silence.
Laura said, “I’m sorry.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“You don’t get to start there.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“You’re right.”
“Where are you?”
“Close.”
“How close?”
“Claire—”
“How close?”
A pause.
“Across the river.”
Claire stood again.
“You’ve been here?”
“Since yesterday.”
“You were here last night?”
“Yes.”
“You called Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“He put Ethan in a car.”
“I know.”
“Did you tell him to?”
“No.”
Ethan was staring at her.
Claire turned away.
“What did you tell him?”
“To get the key.”
“From a nine-year-old?”
“I didn’t know Ethan had it until Daniel called.”
“Then what?”
“I told Daniel to leave him with you and bring me the key.”
“So Daniel decided kidnapping was more efficient?”
“I don’t know what Daniel decided.”
Claire laughed sharply.
“That seems to be everybody’s problem.”
Laura was quiet.
Claire heard traffic behind her.
A horn.
She was outside.
Alive.
Existing in the same city.
“Why now?” Claire asked.
“Because Daniel called me three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Your father is selling the Bellweather.”
Claire looked toward the conference room door.
“What does that matter?”
“Room 317 would be demolished during renovation.”
“The notebook was there.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you get it three years ago?”
“I tried.”
“How?”
“Daniel.”
“He failed?”
“Richard moved the key.”
Claire rubbed her forehead.
“Why not go to police?”
“I did.”
Claire stopped.
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“And?”
“I had copies of some records. Not originals. Richard’s attorneys argued I had participated in the transfers and was trying to extort him.”
“Did they charge you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Daniel intervened.”
“How?”
“He told Richard that if I were prosecuted, Daniel would produce documents showing Richard authorized the payments.”
Claire sat slowly.
“So Daniel protected you.”
“In that moment.”
“And last night he kidnapped Ethan.”
“Yes.”
“You keep saying things like they cancel each other out.”
“They don’t.”
There was something in Laura’s tone Claire recognized.
Not from memory.
From herself.
The tendency to become colder when frightened.
“Are you coming here?”
“No.”
Claire’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“Then why call?”
“To tell you not to trust the notebook alone.”
“Why?”
“Because I changed it.”
Claire stared at the wall.
“What?”
“I added entries after I left Richard.”
“False entries?”
“No. But entries I did not personally witness.”
“Based on what?”
“Documents Daniel sent me.”
“Can they be verified?”
“Some.”
“Then why does that matter?”
“Because your father will say I fabricated everything.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“You just said—”
“I reconstructed some records. That is not the same thing.”
“To a prosecutor it might be.”
“Yes.”
Laura sounded exhausted.
Claire hated how much she wanted to ask whether she had eaten.
She hated more that she did not ask.
“What happened in Room 317?”
Laura stopped breathing for a second.
Then, “Richard told you?”
“Part of it.”
“Which part?”
“Steven Vale threatened you. You hit him with a lamp.”
A long silence.
“That’s true.”
“What isn’t?”
“Richard did not come to help me.”
Claire looked toward the door.
“What did he do?”
“He came because Steven called him.”
“Why?”
“Steven wanted Richard to control me.”
“And?”
“Richard took Steven’s side.”
The words were simple.
That made them worse.
“He told me to sign a statement saying I had misunderstood the payments and had become emotional because I was drinking.”
“Were you drinking?”
“Yes.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Laura continued.
“I was not drunk that night.”
“Did Dad know Steven grabbed you?”
“He watched him.”
Claire’s stomach turned.
May you like
“What?”
“He watched.”
