Chương 5
She had been twenty-eight weeks pregnant. Marcus had begun taking her phone into the bathroom with him. She had told herself she was backing up household records in case of a tax audit.
“I didn’t know what was in them,” Claire said.
“I know.”
“No, I mean I really didn’t. I copied folders.”
“One of them contained bank transfers under your signature.”
“My electronic signature.”
“Still your name.”
Claire looked at the ceiling.
Another contraction built. She gripped the bed rail and breathed. Emily rose automatically, then stopped, uncertain whether she was allowed to touch her.
Claire reached out first.
Emily took her hand.
During the contraction, neither sister spoke. Emily’s thumb moved once over Claire’s knuckles, the same motion she had used when they were children and Claire got carsick.
Afterward, Claire did not let go immediately.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I did.”
“Marcus said you left messages about money.”
“I left messages asking whether you were safe.”
“I never heard them.”
“I came to the house twice. He wouldn’t let me in.”
“You could have tried harder.”
The words left Claire before she could stop them.
Emily’s hand went still.
There it was: the ugly little piece of blame Claire had carried because it weighed less than blaming herself.
Emily withdrew her hand.
“I did try.”
“I was alone.”
“I know.”
“You stopped.”
“I was told you’d file for a restraining order if I came back.”
“I never said that.”
“I know that now.”
“You should have known then.”
Emily stood and walked to the window. The blinds were closed. She lifted one slat, looked at the dark parking lot, and let it fall.
“I was angry with you,” she said. “That part’s true. You told me I was jealous of your marriage. You said I only hated Marcus because he saw through me.”
Claire remembered saying it in the kitchen while Marcus stood behind her, silent and supportive. Emily had gone pale, then red. She knocked over a glass of water when she left.
“I’m sorry.”
Emily nodded without turning.
The apology was insufficient. They both knew it. Claire had not expected it to repair anything, but some part of her had still hoped.
Dr. Patel returned before either of them said more. The baby’s heart rate dipped during the next contraction. The room filled with people. Claire was repositioned, given oxygen, asked to breathe steadily. The rate recovered.
“This may happen again,” Dr. Patel said. “We’ll make decisions based on the pattern.”
“What decisions?”
“If the baby shows sustained distress, we may recommend an urgent delivery.”
“Surgery?”
“Possibly.”
Claire looked at Emily.
Emily had gone white again.
“Don’t do that,” Claire said.
“Do what?”
“Look like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like someone just told you the plane lost an engine.”
A startled laugh escaped Emily.
The nurse smiled despite herself.
It was not funny, but for a few seconds the room belonged to ordinary sisters who had once laughed during a funeral because their aunt’s purse played a recorded greeting every time someone touched it.
Then Claire asked, “What did Marcus toast to?”
Emily’s smile disappeared.
“He said you needed rest. He said motherhood had intensified your anxiety. He asked everyone to respect your privacy while he arranged long-term care.”
“Long-term care.”
“Yes.”
“And they drank.”
“Some did.”
“You?”
“No.”
“Daniel?”
“He pretended to.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Tell me exactly.”
“You need to rest.”
“Tell me.”
Emily sat again.
She described the dinner.
Marcus had greeted guests at the door with a sadness so measured it invited admiration. He apologized for Claire’s absence before anyone asked. He said she had suffered a frightening but private crisis. He spoke of protecting both his wife and unborn child. He implied that she had become suspicious, secretive, and financially reckless.
Hugh Lawson asked whether the police were involved.
Marcus said no. He wanted compassion, not punishment.
Judith cried quietly at the table.
Someone offered the name of a private psychiatric facility in Arizona.
Then Marcus raised his glass and thanked everyone for standing beside his family during what would become, he said, “a difficult transition.”
“That was when the phone connected,” Emily said.
The old phone had been Claire’s idea.
Months earlier, after Marcus began entering rooms without sound and taking calls in the garage, Claire found the outdated device in a box of college things. Its screen was cracked, but it still worked on Wi-Fi. She created a new account under Emily’s name and set it to upload audio whenever she pressed a particular shortcut.
She never used it.
Not until the afternoon in the basement, when Marcus left the enclosure to fetch the welding mask.
Claire had slipped the phone beneath the loose floor panel. She pressed record with the side button and watched the signal light blink once. She did not know whether the basement Wi-Fi would hold. She did not know whether Emily still checked the old account.
Upstairs, during Marcus’s toast, Emily’s phone vibrated.
At first she thought it was a spam alert. Then she saw the account name they had created in middle school, when they shared a desktop computer and believed secrecy required adding numbers to everything.
SistersOnly27.
She put in one earbud beneath her hair.
She heard metal strike metal.
She heard Claire breathing.
She heard Marcus say the word disappearance.
Emily found Daniel at the far end of the dining table. She did not know he was armed. She only knew he had told her to contact him immediately if Marcus did anything unusual.
“I handed him the earbud,” she said. “He listened for maybe ten seconds. Then he asked where the basement stairs were.”
“And he went down alone.”
“He told another investigator outside to call for backup.”
“Another investigator?”
“Watching the house.”
May you like
Claire opened her eyes. “So they were already planning to arrest him.”
“No. They were planning to listen to him talk about the Calder accounts. They thought he might pressure Hugh into agreeing with a false timeline.”
