Chương 4
David read it twice.
“Representatives.”
“That includes family.”
“So you came to a hospital at two-thirty in the morning to ask a nineteen-year-old with her jaw wired shut not to talk.”
“That is not what this says.”
“She physically can’t talk and you still brought paper telling her not to.”
Reeves closed the portfolio.
“Mr. Miller, inflammatory framing will not help her.”
David felt his temper rise so fast that it almost embarrassed him.
Almost.
Cole stepped between them by half a pace.
“Counsel, this can wait.”
Reeves looked at him.
“Your lieutenant disagrees.”
David saw Cole’s face before he could hide it.
There was the pressure.
Not a bribe.
Not a secret envelope.
Just a superior officer being squeezed through relationships that could later be described as ordinary professional coordination.
It was cleaner that way.
Reeves turned back to David.
“We have also been informed that your daughter may have had prior contact with one or more of the students she identified.”
David’s anger sharpened.
“What kind of contact?”
“That’s part of what we’re establishing.”
“You came here knowing something.”
“I came here because allegations this serious affect everyone involved.”
“You know something.”
Reeves paused.
“A complaint was made six weeks ago.”
Cole turned toward her.
“What complaint?”
For the first time, Reeves seemed to regret speaking.
David stepped closer.
“Who made it?”
“I can’t discuss another student’s educational record.”
“Was it Nora?”
Reeves said nothing.
David’s throat tightened.
He turned toward the room.
Nora’s light was still dim.
Her outline rested beneath the blanket.
“She filed something.”
Reeves drew a breath.
“I said I cannot discuss that.”
“You just did.”
Cole’s voice had changed.
“Counsel, if there was a prior complaint related to any of these three men, I need it preserved.”
“Of course.”
“No, not of course.”
He took out his notebook.
“I want all relevant records preserved now, including intake timestamps, routing history, edits, access logs, attachments, and internal communications.”
Reeves’s expression cooled.
“That request needs to go through appropriate channels.”
“It will.”
“Then do that.”
Cole stared at her.
“I just did.”
Reeves closed the portfolio so hard the brass clasp snapped into place.
“I suggest you speak with your lieutenant.”
“I have.”
“Speak with him again.”
“That sounds less like a suggestion.”
Nobody moved.
Then Nora’s monitor began beeping.
David was through the doorway before either of them reacted.
Nora had pushed herself halfway upright and was fighting the pulse sensor clipped to her finger.
Marisol hurried in behind him.
“Easy, easy.”
Nora pointed toward the hall.
David touched her shoulder.
“You heard us?”
Her eyes locked on his.
She nodded.
Marisol adjusted the sensor.
“Please don’t pull this off again.”
Nora ignored her and reached for the whiteboard.
David handed it over.
She wrote fast despite the tremor.
I FILED.
He crouched beside the bed.
“Against them?”
She shook her head.
Then she wrote.
AGAINST CHAD.
“Six weeks ago?”
Nora nodded.
“Why?”
Her marker stopped.
She stared at the board.
Then she erased the words with the heel of her hand, smearing blue ink across her skin.
Marisol quietly left the room.
Cole remained just outside the curtain.
Reeves had disappeared.
Nora started again.
HE DRUGGED A GIRL.
David read the sentence.
The room seemed to shrink.
“You saw it?”
Nora shook her head.
She wrote.
SHE TOLD ME.
“Who?”
Nora hesitated.
KAYLA.
Her roommate.
David looked toward Cole.
The detective had stopped writing.
“Where is Kayla now?” David asked.
Nora’s marker touched the board.
She did not answer.
David saw the fear before he saw the next words.
SHE LEFT CAMPUS.
“When?”
YESTERDAY.
Cole stepped into the room.
“Why?”
Nora’s breathing quickened.
David raised a hand toward him.
“Give her a second.”
Cole did.
Nora wrote more slowly.
CHAD FOUND OUT.
Then another line.
THE COMPLAINT DISAPPEARED.
David looked at Cole.
The detective’s face had gone pale.
“What do you mean disappeared?” he asked.
Nora erased again.
The motion was becoming clumsy.
She wrote.
PORTAL SAID CLOSED.
NO ACTION.
I NEVER GOT INTERVIEWED.
Cole swore quietly.
David asked, “Did you confront Chad?”
Nora’s eyes moved toward him.
That was enough.
“When?”
She wrote.
TONIGHT.
David sat down.
The answer rearranged the night.
This had not begun in a parking garage.
That was only where it became visible.
“What happened?”
Nora pressed the marker hard enough to squeak.
I ASKED WHY.
HE LAUGHED.
BRANTLEY SAID DROP IT.
WYATT BLOCKED EXIT.
David’s hand closed around the bed rail.
Nora noticed.
She stopped writing.
He forced his fingers open.
“What did they make you apologize for?”
Nora’s eyes filled.
The board rested against her knees.
For several seconds she did nothing.
Then she wrote.
FOR CALLING HIM A RAPIST.
Cole inhaled slowly.
“Did Chad assault Kayla?”
Nora shook her head sharply, frustrated.
She erased and wrote.
SHE DOESN’T KNOW.
Cole’s expression changed.
Nora added another line.
SHE WOKE UP IN HIS ROOM.
NO MEMORY.
David felt something colder than anger move through him.
Not certainty.
The absence of certainty.
The kind that powerful people could weaponize from either direction.
Kayla’s missing memory did not prove what Chad had done.
It also did not erase what had happened to Nora.
“Where did Kayla go?” Cole asked.
Nora wrote.
HER AUNT.
“Where?”
She hesitated.
Cole said, “I need to find her before somebody else does.”
Nora stared at him.
Distrust sat plainly in her face.
Cole saw it and looked away.
David took the board gently.
“She’s not giving you that yet.”
“I can protect her.”
“You can’t protect the girl in this bed.”
Cole flinched.
David regretted it as soon as he said it.
There was too much truth in the sentence and not enough fairness.
Cole rubbed his face.
“Maybe not.”
He looked exhausted suddenly.
“But if somebody buried a complaint and three suspects assaulted the person who filed it, then this just became bigger than one attack.”
David’s phone vibrated.
A message appeared from an unknown number.
May you like
BISHOP: PUBLIC RECORDS CLEAN.
A second arrived.
