Part 6
Daniel stared at her.
The conviction in her face did not make the statement better. It made it worse.
“You knew.”
“You always move toward danger when there is someone watching.”
Claire flinched as though the remark had struck her instead.
Daniel walked to the cabinet above the refrigerator, removed the launcher, and opened the barrel again. He extracted the spent casing and set it on the counter.
A single-use marine flare. Designed to burn bright enough to be seen for miles. Indoors, it could have set the rug, curtains, or Daniel’s clothes on fire. It had missed the bookcase by less than a foot.
He turned the casing between his fingers.
“The gate camera,” he said.
Ruth shook her head. “The power flickered this morning. I don’t know whether it reset.”
“The local recorder has battery backup.”
“The cabinet is in your office,” Claire said.
Daniel looked at her.
Her phone was there. The fireproof box was there. The original eleven-page amendment was there. If the recording worked, it would show Veronica arriving and perhaps cutting the external cable, but not what happened inside the kitchen. The interior cameras had been removed two years earlier after Howard accused the staff of spying on him.
Daniel put the casing down.
“We are calling the police.”
Veronica’s face remained still. Only her right thumb moved, rubbing the side of her forefinger.
“Do that,” she said.
Claire looked at him. “How?”
“I can restore the cellular module from the roof antenna.”
“You’ll leave us with her?”
“Ruth can lock herself and you in the office.”
“My phone is in there.”
“That is the idea.”
Veronica moved toward the living room.
Daniel caught her arm.
She turned on him with a suddenness that made Claire gasp, but Veronica did not strike. She only pulled once against his grip.
“I need my shoes.”
“You are not going anywhere.”
“My shoes are by the couch.”
“You fired a flare at the fireplace.”
“And now I would like my shoes.”
The absurdity of it hung there.
Ruth looked down at Veronica’s bare feet. One heel was reddened where the strap of an evening shoe had rubbed it raw.
“I’ll bring them,” Ruth said.
“No,” Daniel replied.
Ruth’s expression hardened.
“I have spent the last thirty minutes being told to sit, hide, watch, fetch, and lock myself into rooms. I am going to bring the woman her shoes.”
She walked into the living room.
Veronica sat again.
Daniel released her arm.
Claire found a first-aid kit beneath the sink and cleaned the scratch at her hairline. When Daniel reached for the antiseptic pad, she turned away.
“I can do it.”
“I know.”
“Then let me.”
He did.
Ruth returned carrying a pair of gold evening shoes by their straps. She placed them beside Veronica.
“Thank you,” Veronica said.
Ruth did not answer.
Veronica slipped them on, wincing when the back strap touched the sore heel. She adjusted it twice before giving up and leaving the strap beneath her foot.
The ordinary movement unsettled Daniel. A woman who had fired a flare in his direction was worrying about a blister. His anger wanted her to be entirely one thing. Her humanity kept obstructing it.
He took the office key from the hall drawer.
“Claire and Ruth will go into the office. I’ll take Veronica to the library and lock the exterior doors. Then I’ll restore the signal.”
Veronica stood.
“You cannot detain me.”
“I can prevent you from approaching my daughter.”
“This is not your house.”
“No,” Daniel said. “That seems to be the one fact none of us can forget.”
He walked Veronica through the living room.
The room smelled of burned fabric. Smoke had gathered near the ceiling, triggering the small red light on the detector without setting off the alarm. Daniel opened two windows as they passed.
Veronica stopped near the white couch and looked back toward the fireplace.
“What?” Daniel asked.
“Nothing.”
“That word has done enough work today.”
She looked at him.
“The envelope Claire put in the vase wasn’t the only thing inside.”
Claire stood in the kitchen doorway.
“What do you mean?”
Veronica pointed toward the fragments.
“When the vase broke, I saw metal.”
Daniel returned to the hearth.
He crouched and moved pieces of ceramic with the poker. Beneath a curved shard lay a small brass cylinder, blackened on one side. It was no longer than his thumb.
Ruth came closer.
“I have never seen that.”
“You fill the vase every week,” Claire said.
“With flowers. I do not dismantle it.”
Daniel picked up the cylinder. One end had a narrow threaded cap.
Veronica knelt on the opposite side of the debris.
“Don’t touch anything,” Daniel said.
She ignored him and pointed.
“There.”
A sliver of paper protruded from the cap.
Daniel unscrewed it.
Inside was a tightly rolled strip of cream paper, protected from the flare by the brass casing. He eased it out. The paper had been folded lengthwise before being rolled, its edges stained with age.
It was not the missing witness page.
It was a note in Howard’s handwriting.
Daniel recognized the heavy downward slant, the capital letters formed too carefully because Howard had learned penmanship from a teacher who struck knuckles with a ruler.
Ruth,
If Daniel finds the amendment before you do, he will make a problem into a principle. If Veronica finds it first, she will make a promise into a weapon. Keep the acknowledgment until both of them are willing to say what they did.
H.
Below the note was a date: twelve days before Howard died.
Claire read it over Daniel’s shoulder.
“What acknowledgment?”
Ruth’s glass struck the counter.
It did not break. It rolled onto its side and poured the remaining water across the marble.
No one moved to stop it.
Veronica rose.
“You have it.”
Ruth stared at Howard’s note.
Daniel heard the lake wind against the open windows.
May you like
“Ruth,” he said.
She removed a handkerchief from her cardigan pocket. For a moment Daniel thought she would wipe the counter. Instead she pressed it to her mouth.
