Chương 6
“That’s insulting,” he said.
“It’s accurate.”
He did not argue.
Lillian looked at Claire.
“You need this job.”
Claire’s fingers tightened around the tote strap.
Graham’s face hardened.
“Don’t.”
Lillian ignored him.
“And I have no interest in destroying your future over one terrible decision.”
Claire stared at her.
“I didn’t put that in your purse.”
“If you admit what happened now, privately, this does not need to become something larger.”
Graham stepped between them slightly.
“Lillian.”
“I’m offering her a way out.”
“No. You’re offering her your version.”
“My version is that I found a recording device in my handbag and she has suddenly invented a story in which I planted it myself.”
“You didn’t find it,” Claire said.
Lillian turned.
“What?”
“You knew it was there.”
The foyer became silent again.
Claire could hear a car passing on the street beyond the glass doors.
Lillian’s eyes narrowed.
“That is a lie.”
“You came in and went straight to the bench.”
“It’s my bench.”
Graham rubbed his mouth with one hand.
Claire kept going, because now that she had begun, the memory was unspooling in exact pieces.
“You put your purse down. You asked me where my ID was.”
Lillian said nothing.
“I said upstairs. You told me to get it.”
Graham looked at Lillian.
Claire’s pulse hammered.
“When I came back, you were holding the purse. Mr. Mercer walked in. Then you took my ID and slammed the purse down.”
Graham’s gaze moved to the tall glass doors.
He had arrived less than a minute before the accusation.
Claire saw him reconstructing it.
Lillian did too.
“That proves nothing.”
“No,” Claire said.
Her voice was quieter now.
“It proves you didn’t discover it while I was standing here.”
Lillian’s lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Claire felt the world tilt slightly.
It was the first time she had ever seen Lillian Mercer without a sentence ready.
Graham moved toward the bench again.
This time Lillian did not stop him.
He leaned close enough to read the tiny marking on the recorder.
Then he entered something into his phone.
Claire watched his face.
Lillian watched it too.
“What?” she said.
Graham did not answer immediately.
“What?”
“The manufacturer has an app.”
“You already said that.”
“The device creates a pairing log.”
Lillian crossed her arms.
“On the phone?”
“And internally.”
Claire’s heart began to beat faster.
Lillian’s did not appear to.
“How convenient.”
“It’s a security feature.”
“You’ve become an expert in five minutes.”
“I read quickly.”
Lillian laughed without humor.
Graham looked at Claire.
“The light means it’s recording now.”
Claire glanced toward the open bag.
“Since when?”
“That’s the question.”
Lillian shook her head.
“This is ridiculous. Turn it off.”
Graham did not move.
“It’s your purse.”
“Exactly. Turn it off.”
“You just said you’ve never seen it.”
“I don’t want to touch something she planted.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Stop.”
Both Mercers looked at her.
Claire put her tote on the floor.
“Please just stop.”
Her throat hurt.
“I can’t keep standing here while you say I did this.”
Lillian’s expression flickered.
Claire stepped toward the bench but kept both hands visible.
“Mr. Mercer, if you can find out when it started recording without touching it, do that.”
“I may need to connect—”
“No.”
Claire shook her head quickly.
“Don’t connect your phone. If it’s already paired to somebody’s, don’t change anything.”
Graham looked at her.
Then he nodded.
“That’s right.”
Lillian’s face tightened.
Claire surprised herself by continuing.
“And take a picture. Of everything exactly where it is.”
Graham glanced at his wife.
Lillian said, “Apparently Claire is conducting the investigation now.”
“No,” Claire said. “Claire is trying not to be called a criminal tomorrow.”
That silenced her.
Graham photographed the open handbag from several angles without touching it.
Then the recorder.
Then the bench.
Lillian stood several feet away, arms folded.
Claire watched her fingers.
The left thumb rubbed repeatedly over the inside of her right wrist.
Claire had seen that motion before.
In the library doorway yesterday.
The memory came whole.
Lillian emerging.
Black object in her hand.
Red light.
Then Lillian slipping it into her pocket and rubbing her wrist while asking whether Claire’s father had gone back to work.
Claire felt cold.
“You were nervous yesterday.”
Lillian looked at her.
“What?”
“When you came out of the library.”
“Do not start assigning me emotions.”
“You were rubbing your wrist.”
Graham’s eyes dropped toward Lillian’s hands.
She immediately stopped.
A flush rose along her neck.
Claire wished she had not pointed it out.
Not because it was wrong.
Because the small involuntary motion made Lillian seem cornered in a way that was suddenly difficult to enjoy.
Claire had imagined, on bad days, telling Lillian exactly what she thought of her.
In those fantasies, Lillian was speechless and Claire felt magnificent.
Reality was uglier.
Lillian looked frightened.
Claire did not feel magnificent at all.
Graham seemed to recognize the same thing.
His voice softened.
“Lil.”
She turned on him.
“Don’t.”
“Okay.”
“Do not speak to me in that tone.”
“I said okay.”
“That tone too.”
He exhaled.
Lillian looked toward the glass doors.
Outside, daylight was beginning to thin.
For the first time since coming home, Graham appeared less interested in the recorder than in his wife.
“What is this?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
“Then give me your phone.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s mine.”
Claire almost looked at him.
The irony hung in the foyer without anybody needing to name it.
Graham did not exploit it.
That helped.
Lillian lowered her arms.
“I have private conversations on there.”
“I know.”
“Messages that are none of your business.”
His expression changed.
“Fine.”
She looked at him sharply, perhaps surprised by how easily he accepted that.
“You don’t get to search them,” she said.
“I said fine.”
“Then what?”
“Show me the Bluetooth device history. You can hold the phone.”
May you like
Lillian stared at him.
“No messages. No photographs. No email.”
