Chương 6
“Because every adult Mom trusted already decided what I should know.”
Daniel opened his mouth.
Ethan went upstairs.
The next morning, the house smelled like coffee and wet earth.
Ethan found Laura sitting at the kitchen table in one of Daniel’s oversized sweatshirts because her wedding clothes had apparently become unacceptable.
Her cheek was purple.
“You look terrible,” Ethan said.
“Thank you.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes.”
“You could put ice on it.”
“I did.”
“It still looks bad.”
Laura stared at him.
“You have your mother’s bedside manner.”
He poured cereal.
“You said you were a coward.”
Laura lowered her coffee.
“I did.”
“Why?”
She looked toward the hallway to make sure Daniel was not there.
Then she seemed annoyed with herself for doing it.
“Because I let being angry at your dad become an excuse for staying away.”
“He told you to stay away?”
“He told me not to come to the house without calling.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No.”
“Did Vanessa tell you not to come?”
Laura nodded.
“When?”
“A lot.”
“Why didn’t you tell Dad?”
“Because by then your dad thought every objection to Vanessa was about grief or jealousy or me being difficult.”
“Were you difficult?”
“Yes.”
That answer surprised him.
Laura smiled without amusement.
“I’m extremely difficult.”
“Mom said that.”
“I know.”
“You two fought.”
“Constantly.”
Ethan sat across from her.
Laura looked at his cereal.
“You’re not going to eat that.”
“I am.”
“You hate raisins.”
He looked down.
He had poured raisin bran without noticing.
He pushed the bowl away.
Laura stood and got another box.
It was such a small, ordinary thing that his eyes suddenly burned.
He hated that.
He hated crying when nothing was happening.
Laura put cornflakes in front of him without mentioning his face.
Henry arrived at eight forty with a woman named Maya Chen who introduced herself as a digital-forensics consultant.
She wore jeans, a dark sweater and sneakers still wet from the driveway.
Ethan had expected someone who looked more like Henry.
She looked like somebody who might complain about airport Wi-Fi.
“Did you open files from the USB?” she asked him.
“Yes.”
“On what computer?”
“My laptop.”
“Did you copy them?”
“No.”
“Rename anything?”
“No.”
“Delete anything?”
“No.”
“Did anything pop up asking you to repair the drive?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She looked at Daniel.
“I’ll image it before anyone listens again.”
Daniel nodded.
“How long?”
Maya looked at him.
“Longer if you keep asking.”
Henry coughed into his hand.
Ethan liked her immediately.
The work happened in Daniel’s office while Ethan was supposed to attend school remotely because the storm had closed part of Pacific Coast Highway.
He completed eight math problems.
Then he stood outside the office door.
Daniel opened it.
“You’re not subtle.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
“You have school.”
“You have my mom’s voice.”
Daniel looked behind him.
Maya was working at a side table with two computers.
“Ten minutes.”
Ethan entered.
By ten thirty they had two verified working copies stored separately and the original sealed again.
Henry wrote down times and names.
“This is excessive,” Daniel said.
“No,” Henry replied. “This is what excessive looks like only before somebody challenges it.”
Maya put on headphones.
“I’m checking file integrity first.”
Ethan watched the screen.
Three audio files.
March 8.
April 2.
May 19.
His mother died June 3.
Daniel saw the dates.
“Play March eighth.”
Maya looked at Henry.
Henry looked at Ethan.
“This material may contain things about your parents you don’t want to hear.”
Ethan almost laughed.
Adults again.
“I heard some already.”
“That is not the same as hearing all of it.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
Daniel answered before Henry could.
“No.”
They listened.
Rachel’s voice filled the office speakers.
It was weaker than Ethan remembered her before the last hospital stay, stronger than the woman he remembered from June.
“I’m recording because you keep telling me I imagined things.”
Vanessa answered.
“I told you I think you’re exhausted.”
“Those aren’t different sentences when you say them.”
A chair moved.
Vanessa sighed.
“Rachel, what do you want from me?”
“I want you to stop answering for my husband.”
“I work for him.”
“You work for his company.”
“I manage his schedule.”
“You manage me.”
Silence.
Then Vanessa said, “Daniel asked me to reduce unnecessary stress.”
Rachel laughed.
It was not a pleasant laugh.
“I’m unnecessary stress?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Daniel looked at the floor.
The recording continued.
Rachel listed missed calls.
A dinner.
A message about a scan.
A weekend.
Vanessa denied some things and explained others.
Then Rachel asked about March seventh.
“Why did you tell Daniel I didn’t want to speak to him?”
“Because you told me you were tired.”
“I said I was tired.”
“You were upset.”
“I am dying, Vanessa. I am allowed to be upset without losing access to my husband.”
No one in Daniel’s office moved.
Vanessa’s recorded voice became quieter.
“He was in a meeting.”
“Until two in the morning?”
“He needed one night where he wasn’t responsible for your fear.”
The sentence stayed in the room after the recording moved on.
Ethan looked at Daniel.
His father had gone white.
Rachel said, “That wasn’t your decision.”
“No.”
“Then why did you make it?”
Another long pause.
Vanessa said, “Because he was drowning.”
Rachel answered, “So was I.”
The recording ended twelve minutes later without a confession.
No dramatic threat.
No declaration of love.
No plan.
Just a series of boundaries Vanessa had crossed and explanations she believed made them reasonable.
Daniel sat perfectly still.
Henry asked Maya to play the next file.
April second was worse.
Rachel had discovered that a voicemail from Daniel was missing from her phone.
Vanessa admitted deleting it.
The admission was indirect at first.
Rachel pushed.
“You removed it.”
“I cleared several things when you asked me to organize the phone.”
“I asked you to clear spam.”
“It wasn’t helpful.”
“What wasn’t helpful?”
May you like
“The voicemail.”
“You decided my husband’s voice wasn’t helpful to me?”
