Chương 8
Not disappeared.
Shifted.
She looked toward the rain-streaked glass.
“I’m sorry.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“She called me that night.”
Elena looked back.
“At the house?”
“No. Before dinner.”
“Did you answer?”
“No.”
The same old habit.
Silent phone.
Work first.
Adrian laughed faintly.
“I called her the next morning after Mother told me she was at the hospital. I kept thinking she’d wake up and give me hell for ignoring her.”
He looked at his wedding ring.
“She never did.”
Elena wanted to cross the room between them.
She did not.
He did not ask her to.
After a while, he stood.
At the door, Elena said, “Adrian.”
He turned.
“I gave Peter my word I wouldn’t publish his name without telling him.”
Adrian stared at her.
“That’s what you’re thinking about?”
“It’s one of the things.”
“He may be a witness in a death investigation.”
“I know.”
“You can’t protect him from that.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because everyone in your family keeps deciding which promises matter after they become inconvenient.”
He went still.
Elena pulled the blanket closer.
“I’m not doing that.”
Adrian nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
“You mean it?”
“No.”
She almost laughed.
He gave a tired shrug.
“I mean I hear you. I don’t know if I agree.”
“That’s better.”
“Apparently tonight I’m learning to settle for better.”
He left the door open when he went.
Elena slept for fifty-three minutes.
When she woke, dawn had started turning Manhattan gray.
The rain had weakened to a fine mist.
Her first thought was that she had forgotten something.
Her second was that the flash drive was gone.
She sat up too quickly.
Pain ran through her lower back.
The nightstand was empty.
She reached for the tablet.
Then saw an evidence receipt beneath the lamp.
The police had taken the drive with her consent.
Her own signature was at the bottom.
For ten seconds she had no memory of signing it.
Then it returned.
Ortiz explaining chain of custody.
Elena asking if she could keep a copy.
The technician saying the original drive could be returned later but the files had been forensically preserved.
Normal procedure.
Normal words.
She lowered herself back against the pillows.
The baby shifted.
Elena placed both hands over the movement.
“Your family is exhausting,” she whispered.
A soft knock sounded.
Not Adrian.
Claire entered carrying coffee for herself and oatmeal for Elena.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Claire set down the tray.
“Any contractions?”
“No.”
“Bleeding?”
“No.”
“Headache?”
“Only the family.”
“Not a medical diagnosis, unfortunately.”
Elena ate three spoonfuls before asking, “Is stress going to hurt her?”
Claire sat opposite her.
“Stress is not magic poison. I care about your blood pressure, sleep, hydration, nutrition, symptoms, and whether you feel safe.”
Elena nodded.
“Do you?”
“What?”
“Feel safe.”
Elena looked at the open door.
“I don’t know.”
Claire did not rush to reassure her.
Good.
The doctor drank her coffee.
“You don’t have to decide this morning.”
“My husband owns the building.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
Claire waited.
Elena corrected herself.
“I mean I don’t know.”
“Better answer.”
At eight thirty, Peter Rawlins called.
Elena answered from a new phone Daniel had brought her because police still had hers temporarily.
Peter’s voice sounded thinner than it had the day before.
“You went to the police.”
“They were called after Damian locked me in a room.”
Silence.
“What?”
Elena explained.
Peter swore.
Then apologized for swearing.
Then swore again.
“I told you not to let them know you had it.”
“They already knew.”
“How?”
“I asked Damian about you.”
Another silence.
“You did what?”
“I didn’t tell him about the footage.”
“Mrs. Vale—”
“Elena.”
“Elena. People like that don’t need the whole sentence.”
She looked toward the smart glass.
“I know that now.”
Peter exhaled.
“What did the police take?”
“The drive.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“They copied it.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“Peter.”
“I can’t testify.”
“You may not get to choose.”
“I can’t.”
“You told me you wanted the truth out.”
“I wanted the recording out.”
“That isn’t the same thing?”
“No.”
His answer came with painful speed.
Elena said nothing.
Peter continued.
“A recording is an object. You hand it over, you’re done. Testimony means lawyers. Depositions. People pulling apart every check I ever cashed and every stupid thing I said for seven years.”
“You took the money.”
“I told you that.”
“I know.”
“They’ll say I changed the footage.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“They’ll say Victoria fired me.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“They’ll say you hate Damian.”
“I barely knew the kid.”
“He was twenty-six.”
“To me that was a kid.”
Elena rubbed her forehead.
“Peter, I’m not going to tell you this is easy.”
“Good, because it isn’t happening.”
“You may be subpoenaed.”
“And until then?”
“You’re going to hide?”
“I’m going to make breakfast.”
The normality of it stopped her.
“What?”
“Eggs. My doctor says I need protein. Joan used to make oatmeal and somehow convince me it was food. She’s dead, so now I eat eggs.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.”
He sounded suddenly very old.
Then he said, “Did Adrian see it?”
“Yes.”
A long pause.
“What did he do?”
“Called the police.”
Peter breathed out.
“That’s not what I expected.”
“Neither did his mother.”
“Victoria never expects the door to close on her side.”
Elena looked at the safe-room lock.
“Peter.”
“Yeah?”
“Did Sophia say anything to you that night?”
“No.”
“Did you see her after the fall?”
“From the landing.”
“What did you see?”
“I’m not doing testimony over the phone.”
“I’m asking for me.”
“That’s worse.”
“Why?”
“Because I like you.”
He hung up.
By noon, the Vale family story had reached the press.
Not the old death.
The new arrest.
ADRIAN VALE’S BROTHER ARRESTED AFTER ALLEGED PENTHOUSE INCIDENT.
The first alert appeared on a financial-news site.
Then local television.
Then gossip accounts.
Then everyone.
The details were mostly wrong.
May you like
One outlet said Damian had attacked Adrian.
Another said Elena had been hospitalized.
