Part 3
When she reached the moment she had pulled Lena away, the words seemed to change weight in her mouth.
“I thought she was hurting him.”
“Why?”
Celeste looked toward the rain on the windows. “Because of what I saw.”
“What did you see?”
“Her hands on his chest. His shirt open. The doors closed.”
“You knew CPR was being performed?”
“Not immediately.”
Rusk waited.
She looked back at him. “I made a mistake.”
“Did you strike her?”
“No.”
“Push her?”
“I pulled her away. She fell.”
“Did she threaten you?”
“No.”
“Resist?”
“No.”
“Say anything?”
“She said she had found him collapsed.”
“And then?”
“I didn’t believe her.”
Rusk stopped writing.
Celeste heard a clock tick somewhere beyond the room.
“Why not?”
She could have said panic. She could have said the scene was confusing. She could have said there had been no time to think.
Instead, she said, “Because Edwin accused her of stealing three weeks ago.”
The sheriff’s pen remained still.
“What was stolen?”
“A diamond tie pin that belonged to my father.”
“Was it recovered?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Celeste swallowed. “In Edwin’s desk.”
Rusk leaned back.
“He said he had put it there for safekeeping and forgotten.”
“And you believed him?”
“At the time.”
“Did Miss Ortiz?”
“She denied taking it from the beginning.”
“Was she disciplined?”
“Suspended for two days.”
“Paid?”
Celeste looked down.
“No.”
Rusk closed his notebook. “I’ll need copies of all personnel records related to that incident.”
Outside the breakfast room, Beatrice was waiting.
“You told him about the tie pin?”
“Yes.”
“Celeste.”
“What?”
“You’ve made the girl sound persecuted.”
“She was.”
“We don’t know that.”
“It was in Edwin’s desk.”
“He’s sixty-two. People misplace things.”
Celeste stepped around her.
Beatrice caught her wrist. “Do not let guilt make you foolish.”
Celeste looked at the hand on her wrist until her aunt released it.
“Guilt didn’t make me foolish,” she said. “Something else did.”
Lena was no longer in the morning room.
Celeste found her in the downstairs washroom, standing at the sink with cold water running over her wrists. Her apron had been removed and folded on the counter. A bruise darkened her upper arm.
Celeste stopped in the doorway.
Lena saw her in the mirror and shut off the water.
“The sheriff said I may change before they take my statement again,” she said.
“I’m sorry.”
Lena picked up a towel.
Celeste had apologized hundreds of times in her life. To donors kept waiting. To editors when interviews were canceled. To guests when the sea fog ruined fireworks. She knew how to shape regret into something elegant and harmless.
Nothing elegant came.
“I should not have touched you.”
“No.”
“I thought—”
“I know what you thought.”
Celeste looked at the bruise.
Lena folded the towel once, carefully, then set it beside the sink.
“Did I injure you?”
“My arm hurts.”
“I’ll arrange—”
“Please don’t arrange anything.”
The words were quiet but immediate.
Celeste closed her mouth.
Lena met her eyes through the mirror. “When Mr. Vale stopped breathing, I thought he was going to die because I couldn’t remember whether I was pressing too fast. Then you came in, and for a second I was relieved.”
That landed harder than anger.
“I thought someone was there to help,” Lena continued. “Then you looked at me.”
Celeste had no defense she could bear to hear aloud.
Lena turned from the sink. “May I go change now?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
She passed without touching her.
At three in the morning, Adrian called from Saint Catherine’s.
“Edwin is stable,” he said. “He’s in intensive care, but he’s breathing on his own.”
Celeste sat on the edge of her bed in a borrowed robe. Her wet dress lay in a heap on the bathroom floor, gold satin dulled by rainwater and mud.
“What was injected?”
“We don’t know yet. His blood work shows a combination of a fast-acting sedative and something that disrupted cardiac conduction. Toxicology is working on it.”
“Will he recover?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“He was without an effective pulse for an unknown period before Lena found him. The fact that she began compressions quickly matters.”
Celeste pressed her fingers to her forehead.
“Can he speak?”
“Not yet. He’s conscious for a few seconds at a time.”
“Did he recognize you?”
“Maybe.”
She stared at the unlit fireplace across the room. “The injector tip.”
“Police took it.”
“Could it identify who used it?”
“Possibly. It isn’t standard hospital equipment. It looks custom-machined.”
“Medical?”
“Yes.”
“Like something you would carry?”
Adrian was silent for half a beat.
“Celeste, are you asking whether I attacked him?”
“No.”
“You are.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m asking what the police will ask.”
“They already did. My medical bag is with them. I consented to a search.”
“Where were you at eleven forty-three?”
“In the east guest suite with your aunt.”
Celeste opened her eyes.
Adrian continued before she could speak. “She developed chest pressure after dinner. It was reflux. She asked me not to tell anyone because she didn’t want to be fussed over.”
“Of course she did.”
“I was there from eleven twenty until the alarm.”
“Then Beatrice can confirm it.”
“She has.”
Celeste rose and crossed to the window. Below, sheriff’s vehicles moved like dark beetles along the drive.
“Someone changed the west gate code,” she said.
“I heard.”
“And Martin is missing.”
“His vehicle is still on the property.”
“Do you think he was involved?”
“I think you should stop deciding what happened before evidence exists.”
The rebuke was gentle. That made it worse.
“I did that once tonight.”
“Yes.”
She leaned her forehead against the cold glass.
“Adrian.”
“I’m here.”
“Did Edwin reach for Lena?”
“I believe so.”
“Why?”
“He may have recognized her voice. Or he may have been trying to indicate something near her. We can’t know yet.”
“He looked at her.”
“Celeste.”
She waited.
May you like
“Do not turn another uncertain moment into a verdict.”
The line remained with her after he ended the call.
