Chapter 3 - What Emmett Had Been Told to ForgetThe police took the burner phone.
Bernadette’s attorney arrived before she said another word.
Quentin wanted answers immediately.
He got procedure instead.
Photographs.
Evidence bags.
Statements.
A child-welfare investigator.
A pediatric examination for Silas.
A separate conversation about Emmett.
Quentin hated all of it.
Not because it was unnecessary.
Because it was necessary.
That was worse.
At the hospital, the pediatrician documented Silas’s cheek and several older faint marks on his upper arms.
Quentin stared when the doctor pointed them out.
“They could have innocent explanations.”
“Could?”
“Yes.”
“Or?”
“Gripping.”
Quentin looked toward the exam room where Maria sat with Silas.
“How did I not see them?”
The doctor did not answer the question he was really asking.
Emmett was interviewed later by a child specialist.
Quentin was not allowed in the room.
He understood why.
Still, waiting outside felt unbearable.
When Emmett emerged, he ran directly to him.
Quentin hugged him.
The specialist spoke privately with Quentin afterward.
“Emmett reports repeated intimidation by Bernadette.”
“How repeated?”
“Months.”
Quentin closed his eyes.
“He says she frequently told him that reporting problems would make you angry.”
“What problems?”
“She pinched him. Grabbed his wrist. Locked him in his room briefly twice.”
Quentin’s face went cold.
“She locked my son in his room?”
“He says five to ten minutes.”
“Why?”
“Once because he asked why the hall camera was off.”
Quentin looked toward the interview-room door.
“What else?”
The specialist hesitated.
“He describes Bernadette telling him his mother was unstable before her death.”
“Nora wasn’t unstable.”
“I’m telling you what he heard.”
Quentin nodded.
“Keep going.”
“She told him Nora fell because she was careless.”
Quentin’s breathing changed.
Nora died after falling down the narrow rear staircase eleven months earlier.
Bernadette said she discovered her at the bottom.
Emmett had supposedly been asleep.
Quentin had been at a construction conference in Chicago.
The death was ruled accidental.
Nora had been thirty-four.
“She told him that if he asked questions about that night, you might become upset enough to send him to boarding school.”
Quentin gripped the edge of the chair.
“I would never say that.”
“He appears to understand that now.”
“Now.”
The word hurt.
The specialist continued.
“He also says Bernadette made him promise never to enter the East Room.”
“Did he?”
“Once.”
Quentin looked up.
“When?”
“About two months after his mother died.”
“What did he see?”
“He didn’t get far. Bernadette caught him.”
“Did she hurt him?”
“She grabbed him and threatened Snow—”
The specialist stopped.
“Sorry. Different phrasing. She threatened to throw away belongings his mother left him.”
Quentin felt sick.
“What did he see?”
“A desk. Cameras. Boxes.”
“That’s all?”
“He remembers a woman’s red phone.”
Nora’s phone had been red.
Quentin stood.
It existed.
The message on the burner phone wasn’t speculation.
Nora’s phone was somewhere in that room.
When they returned to the mansion, police had sealed the East Room.
Detectives were processing it.
Bernadette had been released pending further investigation on the immediate child-abuse allegation, but she was forbidden from returning to the property or contacting the children.
Quentin hated that she was free.
His lawyer reminded him that emotion did not determine pretrial detention.
At 9:40 p.m., Emmett sat on Quentin’s bed while Silas slept in a portable crib nearby.
Quentin had refused to let either child sleep alone.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you mad?”
The question hurt.
“At you?”
Emmett nodded.
“No.”
“I opened the camera.”
“You saved your brother.”
“I wasn’t supposed to know the code.”
“I don’t care.”
Emmett looked relieved.
Then:
“Bernadette said Mommy used to spy on people.”
Quentin sat beside him.
“What does that mean?”
“She said Mom was always recording everybody.”
“Nora sometimes recorded meetings for work.”
Emmett nodded.
“Bernadette said that’s why Mom fell.”
Quentin went still.
“Exactly what did she say?”
Emmett thought carefully.
“She said Mommy kept looking for things that weren’t hers.”
Quentin felt the room grow colder.
“Did she say anything else?”
“She said people get hurt when they don’t know when to stop.”
Quentin stared at his son.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Emmett’s eyes filled.
“Because she said you already knew.”
Quentin’s chest tightened.
“Knew what?”
“That Mommy was bad.”
“No.”
Quentin grabbed his son gently by both shoulders.
“Look at me.”
Emmett did.
“I never believed your mother was bad.”
“Bernadette said you two fought.”
“We did sometimes.”
“About her?”
“About lots of things.”
“Did you want Mom to go away?”
Quentin felt a knife twist.
The week before Nora died, they had argued.
Badly.
She accused him of ignoring problems in his own family because work was easier.
He told her she was becoming obsessed with things she couldn’t prove.
He had regretted it every day since her death.
“No.”
His voice cracked.
“I loved your mom.”
Emmett cried.
“Then why didn’t you believe her?”
Quentin could not lie.
“I should have.”
The boy leaned against him.
They stayed that way until Emmett calmed.
Then he whispered:
“I heard people that night.”
Quentin’s entire body went still.
“What night?”
“When Mom fell.”
“You told police you were asleep.”
“Bernadette told me to.”
Quentin felt cold.
“Who did you hear?”
“I don’t know.”
“Male or female?”
“Both.”
“Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Bernadette?”
Emmett nodded.
“And a man?”
Another nod.
Quentin forced his breathing to stay steady.
“Do you remember his voice?”
Emmett looked frightened.
“I think.”
“Who?”
Before he could answer, Quentin’s phone rang.
Detective Lena Torres.
“We found something in the East Room.”
Quentin looked toward the hallway.
“What?”
“A laboratory report.”
“What kind?”
“DNA.”
Quentin frowned.
“Whose?”
Torres paused.
“Yours.”
Another pause.
“And both of your sons.”
Quentin looked at Emmett.
“Why would Bernadette have DNA tests on my children?”
“We’re trying to determine that.”
“Results?”
Detective Torres answered carefully.
“The reports say you are the biological father of both boys.”
Quentin felt momentary confusion.
Then:
“That’s what I already knew.”
“Yes.”
“So why hide them?”
May you like
Torres’s next answer changed everything again.
“Because beside the genuine reports, we found draft copies saying the opposite.”
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