Chapter 9 - Malcolm Had Practiced His SignatureMalcolm was arrested that evening on charges unrelated to any final determination about the children.
Forgery.
Fraud.
The exact list would develop as investigators worked.
Alistair didn't care what the first paperwork called it.
He cared that Malcolm would not be picking Willa up from school again.
Corinne remained with her attorney under restrictions while prosecutors reviewed the child-abuse evidence and conspiracy around the placement.
The process felt slow.
Alistair wanted consequences to arrive at the speed of his anger.
Reality refused.
Instead there were interviews.
Court filings.
Temporary protective orders.
Forensic reviews.
Medical examinations.
Theo met with a child specialist.
Willa did too.
Alistair was interviewed separately.
Beatrice gave a full statement.
The hardest part for Alistair was not being allowed to ask the children for every detail.
He wanted a timeline.
He wanted to know the first day Corinne crossed the line.
He wanted dates.
Words.
Warnings he'd missed.
The therapist told him:
“Your children are not evidence files.”
That sentence stayed with him.
So he waited.
Three days later, Willa came into the kitchen while Alistair was making breakfast badly.
“You burn everything.”
“Toast is supposed to be dark.”
“Not black.”
He threw another slice away.
Willa sat.
“Can I tell you something?”
Alistair turned off the toaster.
“Always.”
She looked toward the hallway.
“Nobody asked me to.”
“Okay.”
“I want to.”
He sat.
Willa pulled a small notebook from her sweatshirt pocket.
Pink cover.
Stars.
Alistair recognized it.
Elise had bought several before she died.
“What is that?”
“My journal.”
He immediately shook his head.
“You don't have to show me.”
“I know.”
She placed it between them.
“I wrote things Corinne said.”
His chest tightened.
“Why?”
“Because she kept saying I remembered wrong.”
Alistair stared.
Willa continued:
“She'd say something and then tell you she never said it.”
He closed his eyes.
“Like what?”
Willa opened the notebook.
The dates began eight months earlier.
CORINNE SAID THEO RUINS DINNER ON PURPOSE.
CORINNE SAID DAD WOULD PICK HER IF WE MADE HIM CHOOSE.
CORINNE SAID MOM'S FAMILY ONLY VISITS BECAUSE THEY WANT OUR MONEY.
Alistair swallowed.
Willa turned pages.
CORINNE TOLD THEO IF HE CRIED AT SCHOOL THEY WOULD SEND HIM AWAY.
CORINNE SAID DAD IS TIRED OF US.
CORINNE SAID MONTANA HAS RULES FOR KIDS WHO LIE.
Alistair's hands shook.
“She mentioned Montana before the tickets.”
Willa nodded.
“When?”
“February.”
The plan was older than they thought.
He continued reading.
One entry was underlined twice.
UNCLE MALCOLM SAID WILLA IS EASIER BECAUSE SHE'S OLDER. CORINNE SAID THEO WILL FIGHT.
Alistair looked up.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Kitchen.”
“Did they know?”
“No.”
“What did it mean?”
“I don't know.”
He kept reading.
Another:
CORINNE SAID ONCE WE'RE GONE DAD WILL FINALLY REMEMBER WHAT MARRIAGE IS SUPPOSED TO BE.
That hurt differently.
There was the emotional motive.
No children.
No Elise.
No competing loyalties.
Only Corinne and Alistair.
Willa watched his face.
“Dad?”
“I’m okay.”
“You say that when you're not.”
He almost smiled.
“Fair.”
She turned another page.
Then stopped.
“I didn't write the worst one.”
His chest tightened.
“Why?”
“Because if Corinne found it…”
She couldn't finish.
Alistair waited.
Willa whispered:
“She said something about Mom dying.”
He went completely still.
“What?”
“I don't know if she meant it.”
“Tell me exactly.”
Willa's voice shook.
“She said, ‘Elise disappearing was the best thing that ever happened to this family, even if none of you are smart enough to admit it.’”
Alistair felt physically sick.
Willa continued:
“And then Uncle Malcolm said, ‘Careful. That's not something you say out loud.’”
Silence.
The sentence was vile.
But something about Malcolm's response bothered him.
Not:
That's horrible.
Not:
Don't talk about the dead like that.
Careful.
That's not something you say out loud.
Alistair looked at Willa.
“When?”
“Maybe January.”
He forced himself not to leap to conclusions.
Elise had died of cancer after eighteen months of treatment.
There was no mystery around her death.
Doctors.
Hospitals.
Medical records.
Nothing Corinne could have caused.
But Malcolm's wording suggested a secret.
Not murder.
Something else.
He called Beatrice.
“Did Corinne know me before Elise died?”
There was a pause.
“Socially.”
“How well?”
“More than I thought.”
Alistair frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Beatrice sighed.
“Elise knew Corinne.”
“I know they met.”
“No.”
Beatrice's voice changed.
“She knew Corinne was interested in you.”
Alistair stopped breathing.
“What?”
“Elise told me once.”
“When?”
“About six months before she died.”
His stomach tightened.
“What did she say?”
Beatrice hesitated.
“She said, ‘Corinne is waiting for me to become a memory.’”
Alistair stared at the wall.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I thought Elise was being insecure because she was sick.”
He closed his eyes.
Another warning dismissed.
Another person choosing comfort.
Then Beatrice added:
“And there was a letter.”
Alistair looked up.
“What letter?”
“Elise wrote Corinne one.”
“When?”
“Near the end.”
“About me?”
Beatrice swallowed.
“I think it was about the children.”
Alistair stood.
“Where is it?”
“I don't know.”
May you like
For the first time since the two plane tickets appeared in that hallway—
Alistair wondered whether Corinne's resentment had begun before she ever became his wife.
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