Chương 8
When Eleanor explained what she had done, the detective was quiet for several seconds.
“You understand that creating and relocating private copies without authorization may give Arthur’s attorney grounds to challenge how the evidence was handled.”
“I logged the copy, sealed it, and secured it.”
“You are not a forensic technician.”
“No. I am a woman whose son-in-law knew exactly where my home safe was.”
“That is a fair concern.”
Eleanor had expected anger, not agreement.
Ortiz continued, “Do not access the drive again. Tomorrow, I will send someone with a warrant or your written consent to collect it properly.”
“You may have my consent.”
“I need more than your voice on a phone call.”
“You can have whatever paper is necessary.”
“Good. Now go home.”
“You have no authority to order me home.”
“No. I am expressing a preference.”
Eleanor looked at the sealed envelope behind the safe door.
“Detective, did the pendant work?”
“We will contact the monitoring company in the morning.”
“Arthur said it had been lost.”
“I know.”
“Sam says it was active the night Audrey died.”
“I know that too.”
“What happens if the company has a record?”
“Then we examine it.”
“You never say what evidence means.”
“Because evidence rarely means only one thing.”
“My daughter pressed that button.”
“We do not know that.”
“Someone did.”
“Possibly.”
Eleanor closed the safe.
“I dislike you.”
“I hear that early in most investigations.”
The call ended.
At home, the last mourners had gone. Claire slept in a guest room. Sam’s door was closed. A uniformed officer remained downstairs until morning.
Eleanor removed her funeral dress and hung it on the outside of her closet because she could not bear to place it among ordinary clothes.
In the bathroom mirror, the marks left by the veil pins remained in her hair. Her eyes were bloodshot. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and took off her wedding ring for the first time in years because her fingers had swollen.
The ring left a pale indentation.
On her bedside table sat a framed photograph of Audrey at eight years old, missing both front teeth and holding a dead frog she had found near the garden wall. Eleanor had hated the picture. Richard had framed it.
She turned it facedown.
Then she turned it back.
At 2:14 in the morning, she woke to the sound of Audrey’s voice.
For several seconds she believed the recording was playing in the room.
It was only memory.
You changed my medication.
Eleanor sat up and turned on the lamp.
Her phone showed a new message from an unknown number.
You don’t know what she was like at the end.
A second message arrived.
Ask Hayes why he kept taking my reports instead of hers.
Arthur.
Eleanor read the words twice.
He wanted her anger directed toward the doctor. He wanted doubt divided into manageable pieces.
She took a screenshot, then stopped.
Screenshots could be incomplete. Ortiz had said evidence needed context.
Eleanor forwarded the message directly to the detective and placed the phone on the table.
A third message came.
I kept her alive longer than anyone else could have.
Eleanor did not answer.
In the morning, Sam sat at the breakfast table eating dry cereal from a coffee mug. June had made eggs, but he ignored them.
Claire stood near the sink arguing quietly with someone on the phone. When she saw Eleanor, she ended the call.
“That was Arthur’s lawyer,” Claire said.
“Why is his lawyer calling you?”
“He wants Sam brought home.”
“Which home?”
“My brother’s.”
“Arthur has been asked not to contact witnesses.”
“Asked is not ordered.”
Sam stirred cereal dust with his spoon. “Can we not start before coffee?”
“You do not drink coffee,” Claire said.
“I could begin.”
Eleanor poured herself a cup.
Her hand was steadier than the day before.
At nine, Detective Ortiz arrived with a woman named Dr. Pauline Reed, who conducted forensic interviews with adolescents. Reed wore a green sweater and carried no visible badge. She asked Sam whether he preferred to speak at the house or at a child advocacy center.
He chose the center because he did not want the library to become “the room where everything happened.”
Before leaving, he looked at Eleanor.
“Are you coming?”
“I will wait outside.”
“You said you wouldn’t be there.”
“I will not be in the interview.”
He nodded, dissatisfied but relieved.
Claire insisted on driving separately.
At the center, Eleanor sat in a waiting room with plastic chairs, old magazines, and a fish tank containing one orange fish and three gray ones. A toddler pushed a wooden truck along the floor while his father completed forms.
Eleanor stared at the fish.
After twenty minutes, Claire sat beside her.
“Arthur says Audrey was planning to leave him,” Claire said.
Eleanor kept watching the tank. “Why would he admit that?”
“He says you pressured her.”
“I did not know she was leaving.”
“He says you offered to buy him out of the marriage.”
“That is a lie.”
“Did you ever offer them money?”
“I offered everyone money. It is one of my least attractive habits.”
Claire rubbed her thumb along the seam of her purse.
“My brother called me six months ago,” she said. “He asked whether I remembered our mother becoming suspicious before her stroke.”
Eleanor turned.
“What did you say?”
“I said she was suspicious because our father had been sleeping with a dental hygienist.”
The bluntness startled a laugh out of Eleanor. It was brief and inappropriate. Claire laughed too, then covered her mouth.
Across the room, the toddler’s father looked at them.
Claire lowered her voice. “Arthur wanted to know whether confusion can make people accuse spouses of things that aren’t happening.”
“What did you think?”
“I thought he was worried about Audrey.”
“And now?”
Claire stared at the carpet.
“I don’t know.”
May you like
It was the first uncertainty she had allowed.
“Did he ever ask you for money?” Eleanor said.
