Chương 7
Claire closed the email without answering.
Emily watched her. “Good.”
“Don’t praise me.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to ask whether you want coffee.”
Claire almost smiled. “Hospital coffee?”
“There’s a place across the street.”
“Then yes.”
Emily pulled on her coat.
At the door, she paused. “Daniel is coming at two. A victim advocate too.”
“I don’t want an advocate.”
“You don’t know that yet.”
“I don’t want strangers explaining my life.”
“Then tell her that.”
Claire looked down at Lucy.
The baby’s hand had worked free of the blanket. Her fingers opened and closed without finding anything.
“Bring the bad coffee,” Claire said.
“The expensive bad coffee.”
“Even better.”
After Emily left, Judith arrived.
Security called before allowing her upstairs. Claire should have said no. She told herself she wanted answers, though the truth was less honorable. She wanted to see whether Judith would look guilty.
Marcus’s mother entered carrying a cream wool coat over one arm and a leather handbag Claire had once admired. Her silver hair was perfect. She looked as though she had dressed for a board meeting after not sleeping.
She stopped at the sight of Lucy.
Her face softened.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Claire’s body tightened around the baby.
Judith noticed.
The softness vanished behind control.
“I won’t come closer.”
“Thank you.”
“May I sit?”
Claire nodded toward the chair.
Judith sat carefully, placing her handbag between her feet. For several seconds, she watched Lucy sleep.
“Caroline,” she said.
“Her name is Lucy.”
Judith looked up.
“Lucy Hale.”
“That will create complications.”
“It’s her name.”
“Marcus has parental rights.”
“Marcus locked us in a cage.”
Judith flinched.
The reaction was real. Claire could not decide whether that made it better.
“His attorney says the basement was misrepresented.”
“Were you down there?”
“No.”
“Then his attorney knows more than you.”
“I know my son.”
Claire looked at the woman who had said that sentence throughout their marriage, sometimes with pride and sometimes as a warning.
“Did you know about the cage?”
“No.”
“Did you know he was telling people I was unstable?”
“He told me you were struggling.”
“Did you believe him?”
Judith glanced toward the sleeping baby. “Pregnancy can be difficult.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I believed there was tension.”
“Did you know he changed my passwords?”
“No.”
“Did you know he told Emily I wanted a restraining order?”
“No.”
“Did you know my name was on the Calder transfers?”
Judith’s eyes flickered.
There.
Small, but unmistakable.
Claire felt colder than she had in the basement.
“You knew.”
“I knew you were involved in the companies.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You signed documents.”
“He told me they were tax forms.”
Judith pressed her lips together.
“You knew,” Claire repeated.
“I knew Marcus had structured certain holdings through the family.”
“My name is not ‘the family.’”
“Claire, this is not the time.”
“It became the time when he put me in a cage.”
Judith looked toward the door, perhaps expecting someone to intervene.
No one did.
“He has flaws,” she said quietly. “Serious ones. But prison will not undo what happened.”
“No.”
“It will destroy the company. Hundreds of people depend on those projects.”
“Then he should have thought about them.”
“He was under enormous pressure.”
Claire laughed once. Lucy stirred against her chest, and she immediately lowered her voice.
Judith leaned forward. “I am not excusing him.”
“You started three sentences with reasons.”
“I am trying to understand.”
“You are trying to build a version you can live with.”
Color rose in Judith’s cheeks.
For a moment, Claire saw not the formidable woman who hosted foundation dinners and corrected waiters without raising her voice, but an exhausted mother facing the fact that her son’s careful image had cracked in front of twenty witnesses.
Then Judith said, “Aaron believes the charges can be reduced if you clarify that you entered the enclosure voluntarily.”
Claire stared at her.
Judith did not look away.
“He said what happened afterward may have been a panic response. If you explain the context—”
“Get out.”
“Claire.”
“Get out.”
“I came because I care about you and the baby.”
“You came to ask me to lie before the stitches are closed.”
Judith stood.
Her handbag tipped over. A lipstick, a packet of tissues, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer spilled across the floor.
Neither woman moved at first.
Then Judith crouched and gathered the items with shaking hands.
It was such an ordinary embarrassment that Claire nearly helped her.
She did not.
At the door, Judith turned. “You may think this is simple because you are hurt.”
“I don’t think anything is simple.”
“The world will not protect you once Marcus is gone.”
Claire adjusted the blanket over Lucy’s shoulder.
“The world didn’t protect me while he was here.”
Judith left.
When Emily returned with coffee, she found Claire crying in silence.
She put both cups on the windowsill and sat without asking what happened.
Claire told her anyway.
The victim advocate arrived at two with Daniel Reed and an investigator named Lena Ortiz. Daniel wore a plain navy suit. Without the dinner jacket and tactical gear, he looked less dramatic and more tired. A purple bruise showed near his wrist where Marcus had apparently tried to twist free while being placed in the patrol car.
Claire noticed it.
“You said he didn’t resist.”
“He changed his mind outside.”
“Did anyone get hurt?”
“No.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
She hated the relief that moved through her.
Lena Ortiz was in her fifties, with short gray hair and reading glasses hanging from a cord. She introduced herself, then introduced the advocate, Maya Singh, who wore sneakers and carried no clipboard.
Claire liked Maya slightly more for the lack of clipboard.
They explained that Claire could postpone a detailed interview. They needed basic information for immediate safety and evidence preservation. They would not question her while she was sedated or unable to focus.
May you like
“I can focus,” Claire said.
Emily made a doubtful sound.
