Chapter 9 - The Second Letter
For a moment, nobody moved. Viviana's entrance had changed the balance in the room, but not in the way she expected. She had wanted us startled. Instead Celeste looked genuinely frightened.
“What other letter?” I asked.
Viviana ignored me. She faced Damian. “You think I wanted your money? I could have married half the men in this ballroom. Richard wanted access to Grace's trust. Celeste wanted the shipping records buried. I wanted to stop being treated like a decorative piece they could move around the board.”
“By threatening my daughter?” Damian asked.
Viviana's mouth tightened. “I never meant to hurt her.”
“You hurt Lara. You made Grace lie.”
“She wasn't supposed to see—” Viviana stopped herself.
“See what?” I asked.
Celeste snapped, “Enough.”
Viviana laughed bitterly. “You told me the second letter had been destroyed. It wasn't. Richard kept it because he knew you were lying about Elena.”
Damian took one step toward her. “Tell me where it is.”
“Richard has it. Or he did. He took it from the safe at the country house before he left for the airfield.”
Celeste tried to close her portfolio. Ortiz appeared at the doorway with two officers and identified herself. She explained that investigators had obtained legal authority to secure the relevant documents. Celeste protested loudly, but she handed over the envelope after her attorney arrived by phone and advised her to comply.
Viviana looked less triumphant now. She hadn't expected the police to be so close. Ortiz asked whether she would come to the station to give a statement. Viviana said she wanted counsel. Ortiz agreed.
The gala continued for another twenty minutes before the foundation's board announced an unexpected adjournment. Guests drifted toward the exits, whispering. Nobody saw the envelope opened. Ortiz kept it sealed for examination.
Outside, cold rain streaked the hotel windows. Damian stood beside me in the quiet service corridor. “I wanted to take it from her,” he admitted. “I wanted to read it right there.”
“You didn't.”
“I don't know whether that makes me a better man.”
“It makes you a father who might actually get the truth into a courtroom.”
He turned toward me. “You keep asking me to be accountable, even when it's the last thing I want.”
“That's what the truth does.”
He smiled sadly. “You make it sound simple.”
“It isn't.”
We drove separately. I went home to my apartment and made tea I couldn't drink. At midnight, Ortiz called to say the envelope was authentic enough to warrant further examination, but she wouldn't discuss its contents until the relevant people had been interviewed. I stared at the phone after we hung up, thinking about Grace and the birthday she would celebrate in four months.
The next morning, Noah came to my apartment with a bag of groceries. He looked healthier, though he still moved carefully. He set apples on the counter and noticed the empty second chair.
“You really moved out,” he said.
“I told you I would.”
“I thought Damian might talk you out of it.”
“He didn't try.”
Noah sat down. “I need to tell you something before Ortiz hears it from somebody else.”
I braced myself.
“The night Elena died, I didn't just change a delivery time. I called Richard and told him where she was meeting a reporter.”
I felt the room tilt. “You said you called Elena to warn her.”
“I did. After I told him. I thought Richard would scare her into dropping it. I didn't think he'd hurt her.”
“You knew he was dangerous.”
“I knew he could destroy us. I was scared.”
I stood and walked to the window. Below, the florist was arranging yellow chrysanthemums in buckets. People passed on the sidewalk carrying coffee, living lives that had nothing to do with the damage in my kitchen.
“Did you tell Ortiz?” I asked.
“Not yet.”
“Then you need to.”
“Lara—”
“No. You don't get to make me the keeper of another secret.”
He began to cry. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to throw him out. I did neither.
“Call her,” I said. “I'll sit here while you do it.”
Noah dialed Ortiz and asked for another interview. When he finished, he looked exhausted.
“Do you hate me?”
“I love you,” I said. “And I'm furious with you. Both can be true.”
That afternoon, Damian called. The investigators had found a reference in Elena's first letter to a second message stored in a safety deposit box. The letter was addressed not to Grace but to Damian. It contained a sentence Elena had underlined twice: The person who betrayed me will claim to be protecting our family.
“I thought she meant Richard,” Damian said. “Maybe she did. But she was warning me about a whole system I helped maintain.”
I told him what Noah had confessed. He listened in silence.
“Are you going to ask me to keep him safe?” he said.
“No. I'm asking you not to decide his punishment.”
“I won't.”
He paused. “Grace wants you to come to her school play next week. You don't have to sit with me.”
“I want to see her,” I said. “I'll come.”
After the call, I sat at my little kitchen table and looked at the apples Noah had brought. I understood then that love did not have to mean sheltering people from consequences. Sometimes it meant staying close enough to watch them face what they'd done.
May you like
At six, Ortiz called again. Officers had located Richard's private plane in a hangar outside Albany. Richard was gone, but the pilot had provided a passenger manifest. Richard had not flown alone.
The second passenger was listed as Rebecca Vale.
