Chương 2
“You shouldn’t have worn that.”
Victoria looked down at the uniform. “I came straight from the dinner.”
“They’ll say you threatened them.”
“I didn’t.”
“They’ll say it anyway.”
The answer sounded like the old Emily—practical, irritatingly precise, unwilling to accept reassurance merely because it had been offered. Victoria felt relief so sharp that it made her almost angry.
“Let them,” she said.
Emily’s fingers loosened from the black wool. “That’s not how it works.”
“No.” Victoria pulled the chair nearer and sat. “It isn’t.”
Daniel returned with a woman from the hospital’s advocacy team. Her name was Nina Alvarez. She wore gray slacks and a cardigan with one button missing near the bottom. She introduced herself to Emily, then to Victoria, and explained that she could remain during any interview or ask anyone to leave.
“Including me,” Victoria said.
Nina nodded. “Including you.”
Victoria expected Emily to say that was unnecessary. Instead, Emily stared at the blanket.
“Can I talk to her alone?” she asked.
The words struck more deeply than Victoria allowed her face to show.
“Of course,” she said.
She rose, smoothed the front of her uniform, and left without looking toward the consultation rooms.
In the hallway, Daniel stood beside a vending machine that hummed louder than it should have. He held two paper cups of coffee and offered one to her.
“I don’t drink coffee after eight.”
“It’s two in the morning.”
“That is after eight.”
He lowered the cup. “Water?”
“No.”
Victoria looked through the narrow window in Emily’s door. Nina had moved her chair close to the bed. Emily was speaking, though Victoria could not hear the words.
Daniel followed her gaze. “She’s safe here.”
“She was supposed to be safe in her home.”
“You didn’t know.”
Victoria’s mouth tightened. “That sentence is rarely useful.”
Daniel drank from one of the cups, winced, and set both on top of the vending machine. “Your daughter may not tell us everything tonight.”
“She will.”
“She may not.”
“She understands what’s at stake.”
“She has a concussion, fractured ribs, a dislocated finger, and a husband whose family has spent years convincing her that consequences belong to other people. Understanding isn’t the same as being ready.”
Victoria looked at him. “Do not explain my daughter to me.”
“I’m explaining victims to you.”
“She is not a category.”
“No,” Daniel said. “She’s a woman in a hospital bed who just asked you to leave the room.”
The vending machine compressor shut off. The silence after it felt personal.
Victoria turned back toward the window.
Emily had been eight the first time she asked Victoria not to come into a room. It had been the downstairs bathroom in their base housing in Virginia. Emily had locked the door after falling from a bicycle because she did not want her mother to see her cry. Victoria had sat on the tile outside and explained, in detail, how to clean gravel from a wound.
Her husband, David, had eventually come home, knelt beside her, and said, “You’re briefing the door.”
“I’m helping.”
“You’re briefing it.”
Then he had slid a chocolate cookie under the gap and waited without speaking. Emily opened the door three minutes later.
David had been dead twelve years.
Victoria had never learned how to slide the cookie under the door.
Daniel checked his watch. “The phone from Derek’s car is being secured. We won’t search it without proper authorization or consent. If it belongs to Emily and she can unlock it, that helps.”
“She can.”
“Let her decide.”
Victoria faced him. “You seem determined to make me the problem.”
“No. I’m determined not to replace one person controlling her with another.”
For a moment, Victoria disliked him with perfect clarity.
Then Emily’s door opened.
Nina stepped into the hall. “She wants both of you.”
Emily had shifted upright against the pillows. The movement left her pale, and one hand pressed protectively against her side. The nurse had cleaned the blood from her lip. Without it, the split looked deeper.
Daniel sat near the foot of the bed. Victoria returned to the chair but did not take Emily’s hand.
Nina placed a small recorder on the bedside table. “Emily, Daniel is going to ask whether you consent to an audio recording of this conversation. You can stop at any point.”
Emily looked at the device. “I consent.”
Daniel stated the date, time, location, and names of those present. His voice carried none of the triumph it had carried through the phone.
“Tell me what happened tonight,” he said.
Emily swallowed.
“We were at the foundation dinner.”
“What foundation?”
“The Bennett Civic Trust. Jason’s family runs it.”
“What was the purpose of the dinner?”
“Donors. Scholarships. Community development.” She glanced toward Victoria. “The usual words.”
Daniel waited.
“I was supposed to give a speech. Jason came upstairs to the hotel suite before dinner. He’d been drinking, but he wasn’t drunk. Not like he’ll claim.”
“What did he want?”
“My phone.”
“Why?”
Emily’s gaze moved to the sealed evidence bag. “He saw a message.”
“From whom?”
“My attorney.”
Victoria’s back straightened.
Emily noticed. “Not a criminal attorney. A divorce attorney.”
Victoria said nothing.
“I had met with her twice,” Emily continued. “Jason didn’t know. The message was about an apartment application and temporary account access.”
Daniel asked, “What did he do after seeing it?”
“He locked the suite door.”
“Did he say why?”
“He said I wasn’t going downstairs until I explained myself.”
“Did you ask to leave?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he let you leave?”
“No.”
Emily’s voice had become flatter. Victoria recognized the technique. Flatten the voice and the memory loses some of its edges. She had used it herself while giving reports after casualty notifications.
“What happened next?” Daniel asked.
May you like
“Jason took my phone. I tried to get it back. He pushed me. I hit the dresser. I told him I was done and that I had copies.”
Daniel looked up. “Copies of what?”
