Chương 4
“At the time?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Janice nodded and wrote something.
Nathan hated the notebook.
He knew that was irrational.
“What are you writing?”
“That you noticed a decrease in video contact approximately six weeks ago.”
“Then just say that.”
“I did.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Sorry.”
Janice closed the notebook slightly.
“You don’t have to apologize for being angry.”
“I’m not angry at you.”
“I know.”
“I’m angry at myself.”
“That’s not useful tonight either.”
Nathan looked toward the bed.
Lily had fallen asleep with her red coat folded beneath her cheek even though the hospital had given her a pillow.
Rebecca had bought that coat in September.
Nathan remembered Lily modeling it during a video call, spinning until she got dizzy.
Rebecca had stood behind the phone laughing.
The memory hurt more than if Rebecca had always been cruel.
Monsters were simple.
People were not.
“Is she going to stay with me?” Nathan asked.
“Assuming there’s no safety concern involving you, yes, that’s the likely temporary plan.”
“Temporary.”
“It’s the word we use before facts become decisions.”
Nathan looked at Lily.
“Where is Rebecca?”
“Still being interviewed.”
“Arrested?”
“I don’t know.”
He did not believe her.
Janice could tell.
“I genuinely don’t know.”
Nathan leaned back.
The white jacket felt stiff where mud had dried.
“You can take that off, you know.”
He looked down at himself.
“I forgot I had it on.”
Janice smiled faintly.
“That might be the most military answer I’ve heard all month.”
He removed the jacket.
Lily woke when the medals clinked.
Her hand reached out before her eyes opened.
Nathan put his fingers in hers.
“It’s me.”
She settled again.
Janice watched them.
“Colonel?”
“Yes?”
“When she wakes up, don’t ask her for details.”
“I need to know what happened.”
“You do. She needs not to be responsible for making you feel less uncertain.”
Nathan looked at the floor.
“That’s hard.”
“Most useful parenting is.”
At 11:06 p.m., Detective Bennett returned.
She took Nathan into an empty consultation room.
Rebecca had not been arrested.
Nathan stared at her.
“You have got to be kidding.”
“We need probable cause for a specific offense.”
“You have a locked box my daughter was inside.”
“We have a hatch with an exterior latch.”
“And a child inside it.”
“Yes.”
“And my wife saying she went there herself.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what part is complicated.”
“Who operated the latch.”
Nathan opened his mouth.
Bennett kept going.
“No usable fingerprints. Rain. Mud. Multiple people touched the area after Lily disappeared, according to Rebecca. The latch was installed recently, but we haven’t established by whom. Lily’s initial statement is important, but she has not yet said Rebecca physically put her inside or closed the latch.”
“She said Rebecca told her I was dead.”
“That’s disturbing. It isn’t proof of confinement.”
“Then what happens?”
“We investigate.”
“And she walks?”
“She has agreed to stay elsewhere tonight.”
“Agreed.”
“With her attorney present.”
Nathan stared at the wall.
“Of course she has an attorney.”
“Her attorney is her cousin.”
That almost made Nathan laugh.
Rebecca’s cousin Michael handled commercial leases and spent family holidays explaining why everyone else’s jobs were less complicated than his.
“Lily said my plane was supposed to crash.”
Bennett sat opposite him.
“I want to ask you something, and I need a careful answer.”
Nathan waited.
“Was there a flight today that Rebecca knew you would be on?”
“Yes.”
“What flight?”
“A military transport from Ramstein to Andrews, with a stop.”
“Was it dangerous?”
“No more than normal.”
“Any incident?”
“No.”
“Any reason she would believe it might crash?”
“No.”
“Did she know the exact aircraft?”
“She had my itinerary.”
Bennett nodded.
“Was the itinerary public?”
“No.”
Something in her face made Nathan straighten.
“What?”
“Rebecca’s phone contains searches.”
Nathan felt his pulse in his throat.
“What searches?”
“I’m not going to read you a forensic report we don’t have yet. Her attorney consented to a limited examination because she claimed she had been searching for information after hearing about an aviation incident. We found recent browser history involving military transport accidents.”
Nathan stared at her.
“That means what?”
“At the moment, it means she searched the subject.”
“Before today?”
“Yes.”
“How long before?”
“Several weeks.”
Nathan looked toward the closed door.
“She told Lily my plane was supposed to crash.”
“We’re taking that seriously.”
“Could she have done something?”
“To the aircraft?”
“Yes.”
Bennett’s pause lasted barely a second.
It was enough.
“Nathan, do not turn an ugly family investigation into something else because you need the fear to have a shape.”
He hated her for using his first name.
Then he hated himself because she was right.
“I need sleep.”
“You need to stay with your daughter.”
“That too.”
Bennett stood.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“The cash in the suitcase.”
“Yes.”
“Do you keep cash at home?”
“Some. Emergency money. Maybe twelve hundred.”
“Could Rebecca have access to more?”
“She manages most household accounts.”
“Any financial trouble?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
Nathan did not answer immediately.
Bennett noticed.
“What?”
“Two months ago, a credit-card payment bounced.”
“And?”
“Rebecca said she moved money between accounts and forgot.”
“Did you check?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because she said she moved money between accounts and forgot.”
The detective waited.
Nathan looked away.
“Apparently that answer is going to become a theme.”
Lily was discharged shortly after midnight with a mild ankle sprain, dehydration, several superficial cuts, and instructions to return if she developed respiratory problems, fever, confusion, vomiting, or other symptoms.
Nathan did not take her home.
The police still had control of parts of the property, and Lily began shaking when he mentioned the house.
He called his younger brother, Daniel.
Daniel answered on the second ring.
“If this is about Mom’s birthday, I already bought—”
“I need your place.”
Silence.
“What happened?”
“Lily’s with me.”
“Okay.”
“I need your place.”
Another silence, shorter.
May you like
“Come over.”
Daniel lived twenty minutes away in a two-bedroom townhouse with a broken porch light he had been promising to fix for three years.
