Chapter 3 - The Visit That Never HappenedEvie called Michael twelve times before he answered.
Ortiz asked him to put the phone on speaker.
Michael sat in a private hospital consultation room with Margaret, Harold, and the detective.
“Michael?”
Evie sounded breathless.
“What happened? Is Rosie okay?”
“She’s alive.”
A pause.
“Oh, thank God.”
Michael said nothing.
Evie continued.
“Dad said something happened at the house. Maria texted one of the office assistants. I couldn’t understand—”
Maria had not texted anyone.
Ortiz wrote something down.
Michael asked, “Where are you?”
“Boston.”
“What hotel?”
Another pause.
“The Lenox.”
“You checked in?”
“I’m heading there now.”
“So you’re not there.”
“Michael, what is this?”
He ignored the question.
“Where are you right now?”
“I just left Logan.”
“Which Logan?”
Silence.
Michael’s eyes narrowed.
Evie finally said, “The airport.”
“There’s no Logan Airport in Hartford.”
Another pause.
Too long.
“I’m in Boston.”
“Then send me a photograph of the arrivals board.”
“Are you interrogating me?”
“I’m asking where you are.”
“Rosie is in the hospital and you’re asking me for a photograph?”
“Because Rosie told police the person who frightened her was wearing Grandma’s red-stone ring.”
Nothing came through the speaker except static.
Then Evie spoke.
Very quietly.
“My ring is missing.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
Michael almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the answer was too perfect.
“When did it go missing?”
“Yesterday.”
“You didn’t mention that.”
“Why would I?”
“Because it’s a family heirloom.”
Evie’s voice sharpened.
“I don’t know what you think happened, but I’m not discussing this without a lawyer.”
She disconnected.
Michael stared at the dark screen.
Harold slammed his palm against the table.
“This is insane.”
Ortiz looked at him.
“Mr. Hawthorne, your daughter has now given conflicting information about her location.”
“She’s scared.”
“So is Rosie.”
Harold looked away.
Margaret studied her husband.
For fifty years she had known his habits.
His temper.
His silences.
This silence was different.
It wasn’t disbelief.
It was calculation.
“Harold,” she said.
He looked at her.
“When did you speak to Evie this morning?”
“I told you. Around eight.”
“Before Rosie was found?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Harold’s jaw tightened.
“Business.”
“What business?”
“Margaret.”
“What business?”
Michael watched them.
Harold stood.
“This isn’t the place.”
Ortiz remained seated.
“I disagree.”
Harold glared at her.
Then Maria entered.
She had been brought to the hospital after officers finished her initial interview.
Her face was pale.
“Mrs. Hawthorne?”
Margaret turned.
Maria held something in a clear evidence bag an officer had permitted her to identify before turning over.
“What is that?”
“A button.”
Small.
Ivory colored.
Maria explained she had found it beside the side entrance that morning before Rosie was discovered. She had assumed it came from one of the cleaners.
Ortiz examined it.
Margaret recognized the design immediately.
Evie owned a cream cashmere coat with those exact pearl-edged buttons.
Michael saw his mother’s face.
“You’re sure?”
“I bought her that coat.”
Harold whispered a curse.
Ortiz asked Maria, “You said you saw someone near Mr. Hawthorne’s study.”
Maria nodded.
“Could it have been Evelyn?”
“I couldn’t see the face.”
“Build?”
Maria hesitated.
“Yes.”
Harold stood abruptly.
“Enough.”
Everyone turned.
“You’re constructing a story from a child’s memory and a button.”
Ortiz’s eyes hardened.
“We’re establishing facts.”
Harold opened his mouth.
Margaret interrupted.
“Sit down.”
Her husband stared at her.
She rarely used that tone.
“Margaret—”
“Sit.”
He did.
Michael looked from his father to his mother.
For the first time in his life, he saw uncertainty in Harold Hawthorne.
Not fear for Evie.
Fear for himself.
Ortiz’s phone rang.
She stepped outside.
When she returned two minutes later, her expression had changed.
“We checked Evelyn Chandler’s flight.”
Michael stood.
“She took it?”
“No.”
Harold’s face went blank.
Ortiz continued.
“She never boarded.”
Margaret whispered, “Then where is she?”
Ortiz looked directly at Harold.
“We’re working on that.”
Michael thought of the mansion.
The closing door upstairs.
The empty guest room.
The red ring.
Then Maria spoke softly.
“There’s something else.”
Everyone looked at her.
Maria swallowed.
“Last night, Mrs. Evelyn asked me whether the security cameras inside the house still recorded when the internet was disconnected.”
Harold closed his eyes.
May you like
And Michael realized his sister hadn’t simply lied about where she was.
She had been preparing for something.
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