For twenty-two years, Elena Alvarez had known where I kept the spare sheets, which tea Robert drank when his stomach bothered him, and how long to roast the Thanksgiving turkey when twelve guests became nineteen.
She had held my hand when my mother died.
She had taken Harrison to the emergency room when he split his chin open because Robert and I were out of town.
When her husband died, we paid for his funeral.
When her daughter graduated from nursing school, Robert and I sat in the second row.
Now Daniel Crane was telling me she had helped someone enter my house on the night my husband nearly died.
I called her before Morales could stop me.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
"Elena, it's Theresa. Call me."
Morales held out her hand.
"No more."
"She's alone at my house."
"We don't know that."
That possibility struck hard.
I handed over the phone.
"Then send someone."
"We already are."
Robert had gone pale.
"Elena wouldn't."
I looked at him.
"You've said that about several people recently."
He had no response.
Harrison whispered, "She knew the code."
"Yes."
"She knew the camera system too."
Robert turned sharply.
"How?"
"She used it when you traveled."
I remembered teaching Elena how to check the security tablet.
Robert looked at me.
"You gave her access?"
"Years ago."
He started to say something.
I raised one eyebrow.
He stopped.
At least he was learning.
Detective Powell entered.
"Patrol is at the Ellison residence."
"And?" I asked.
"House appears secure. They're waiting for authorization to enter."
"It's my house."
Morales nodded.
"Your permission helps, but because it's potentially a crime scene, we're coordinating."
"Do whatever you need."
Ten minutes later, Elena called.
Morales put the phone on speaker.
"Mrs. Theresa?"
Her voice shook.
"Elena, where are you?"
"At my sister's."
"Why?"
Silence.
"Elena."
"I was scared."
Robert leaned toward the phone.
"Of whom?"
She gasped.
"Mr. Robert?"
He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
"Oh, God."
She began crying.
"You're alive."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
My stomach tightened.
"For what?"
She cried harder.
Morales spoke.
"Ms. Alvarez, this is Detective Morales with the NYPD. We need to ask you about the night Mr. Ellison collapsed."
The line went quiet.
"I can't."
"Why?"
"They'll hurt my daughter."
Every person in the room stopped moving.
"Who will?"
"I don't know."
"Elena," I said, "listen to me. Where is Sofia?"
Her daughter.
"At work."
"Which hospital?"
Elena gave the name.
Morales immediately signaled Powell, who left the room.
"Is anyone with you?" Morales asked.
"No."
"Lock the doors. Don't leave. Officers will come to you."
"No police."
"Why?"
"They said if I talked—"
"Who said?"
"I don't know his real name."
Robert whispered, "Hale."
Elena heard him.
"I think so."
My hands went cold.
"Tell us what happened."
She took several shaky breaths.
"Mr. Richard came that afternoon."
"The day Robert collapsed?"
"Yes."
"Did I see him?"
"No. You were shopping."
I remembered.
Flowers for the dining room.
Ordinary errands before ordinary dinner.
"What did Richard want?"
"He asked about the alarm."
Robert closed his eyes.
"Did you give him my code?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"He already knew it."
I looked at Robert.
Anniversary.
Of course Richard knew.
"He asked if the service gate could be opened without the camera recording."
"What did you tell him?"
"I said I didn't know."
"Did he ask anything else?"
"Which window in the study was broken."
Robert frowned.
"Broken?"
"The sensor. It had been giving errors."
I remembered Elena complaining that the alarm sometimes chirped near the study.
Robert had assumed it was a dying battery.
"Did you tell Richard?"
"Yes."
I asked, "Why?"
"He said he was helping Mr. Robert fix the security system."
Robert gave a bitter laugh.
Elena started crying again.
"I didn't know."
"What happened that night?"
"A man called the house phone."
"What time?"
"Maybe eleven fifteen."
"What did he say?"
"He said Mr. Richard had sent him to pick up papers."
"Did you believe him?"
"At first."
"Then?"
"He knew my daughter's name."
My stomach tightened.
"He said Sofia worked late."
Morales's face hardened.
"He threatened her."
"Not exactly."
"What exactly?"
"He said, 'It would be terrible if Sofia had trouble getting home from the hospital.'"
I closed my eyes.
That was a threat.
The kind designed to survive being repeated.
"What did he tell you to do?"
"Open the service gate when he called again."
"Did you?"
"Yes."
"At 11:31?"
"Probably."
"Did you meet him?"
"No. He told me to stay in the kitchen."
"Was he alone?"
A pause.
"No."
I looked at Robert.
"Who was with him?"
"A woman."
That was not what any of us expected.
Morales leaned closer.
"Describe her."
"I only saw her for a second."
"Age?"
"Maybe forties. Maybe fifty."
"Hair?"
"Blond."
"Height?"
"About Mrs. Theresa's height."
"Did you recognize her?"
"No."
"What were they carrying?"
"A black bag."
Medical.
I thought of Mercer.
Vale.
But Elena had seen a woman.
"What happened after they entered?"
"I stayed in the kitchen."
"Did you hear anything?"
"Voices."
"Whose?"
"Mr. Richard."
Robert stiffened.
"Richard was there?"
"Yes."
"Inside the house?"
"Yes."
Harrison whispered, "He told me he was home."
Elena continued.
"I heard Mr. Robert arguing."
Robert frowned.
"I don't remember."
"What did you hear me say?"
"'Get out of my house.'"
Robert stared at the table.
Nothing.
No memory.
"What next?"
"A crash."
My chest tightened.
"What kind?"
"Something falling."
"Then?"
"Mr. Richard came into the kitchen."
"What did he say?"
"He said Mr. Robert had fainted."
"Did you see him?"
"Yes."
"Was he conscious?"
"I don't think so."
Robert rubbed his chest.
"Who was with him?"
"The woman."
"And the man?"
"He was gone."
"Hale?"
"I think."
"What did the woman do?"
"She had something in her hand."
"What?"
"A syringe."
The room went silent.
I looked at Robert.
His face had become blank.
"Did you see her inject him?"
"No."
"Did she say anything?"
Elena began crying harder.
"She told Richard the dose was too high."
Robert closed his eyes.
There it was.
Another voice.
Another person.
Perhaps the woman on the recording had never spoken because Crane had not captured her.
Morales asked, "Did Richard identify her?"
"No."
"Did you hear a name?"
Elena hesitated.
"Maybe Claire."
Irene straightened.
"Claire?"
Robert looked at her.
"You know someone?"
She was already reaching for her phone.
"Claire Vale."
The name landed heavily.
"Marcus Vale's wife?" I asked.
"Ex-wife."
"Doctor?"
"Registered nurse. Formerly worked in cardiac care."
Morales wrote rapidly.
Elena continued.
"Richard told me to go upstairs and wake Mrs. Theresa."
I remembered Elena knocking on my bedroom door.
Mrs. Theresa, come quickly.
Robert has fallen.
"By the time I came downstairs," I said, "there were paramedics."
Elena cried.
"Yes."
"Where was Claire?"
"Gone."
"Richard?"
"Still there."
"Harrison?"
"Arrived later."
That matched my memory.
Harrison entering while paramedics worked.
Pale.
Breathless.
Asking what happened.
Perhaps some of his shock had been genuine.
I had mistaken that possibility for innocence.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.
Elena sobbed.
"I'm sorry."
"Why?"
"Richard found me before the ambulance left."
"What did he say?"
"That if I talked about anyone being there, Sofia would pay for it."
My anger became suddenly cold.
"Did he threaten her directly?"
"He showed me a picture."
"What picture?"
"Sofia leaving work."
Morales's expression hardened.
"Taken when?"
"That night."
Someone had been watching Elena's daughter while another person entered our house.
This was not improvisation.
It was coordinated.
"Who sent the photograph?"
"I don't know."
"Do you still have it?"
"Yes."
"Good. Don't delete anything."
Elena whispered, "Mrs. Theresa?"
"I'm here."
"I'm sorry."
I wanted to say I understood.
I did understand fear for a child.
Perhaps better than I wanted to.
But understanding was not the same as absolution.
"You should have told me."
"I know."
"I would have protected Sofia."
"I was afraid you couldn't."
That hurt because she had been right.
At the time, I could not even protect myself.
"I know," I said.
Robert looked at me.
Elena began crying again.
"Are you angry?"
"Yes."
She inhaled sharply.
"But I also know someone threatened your daughter."
"Yes."
"Tell the police everything."
"I will."
"Then we'll deal with the rest later."
After the call ended, Morales immediately coordinated protection for Elena and Sofia.
Irene searched Claire Vale's public records.
"Licensed nurse until four years ago. License surrendered after allegations involving medication diversion."
Robert looked toward me.
"Mercer, Vale, Claire."
"A network of compromised medical people," Irene said.
"People who could be pressured," I added.
"Or paid."
Morales received another call.
She listened for nearly a minute.
Then looked at us.
"New Jersey police entered Hale's residence."
Robert stood.
"Is he there?"
"No."
"What did they find?"
"Blood."
My stomach dropped.
"Whose?"
"Unknown."
"How much?"
"Enough to concern them."
Harrison came to the doorway.
His attorney was beside him.
"What happened?"
Nobody answered immediately.
Morales continued.
"They also found multiple phones, surveillance equipment and a large amount of cash."
"Crane?" Robert asked.
"We don't know."
My phone vibrated.
Crane.
I opened it.
IF HALE'S HOUSE IS EMPTY, YOU'RE TOO LATE.
I typed:
Too late for what?
His response:
HE KNOWS RICHARD WAS TAKEN.
Then:
HE'LL CLEAN UP EVERYONE WHO CAN CONNECT HIM.
I showed Morales.
She swore under her breath.
"Where are Mercer and Vale?"
"Mercer's here."
"Vale?"
Powell called from the doorway.
"Local officers reached Vale's house."
Morales looked at him.
"And?"
"Empty."
"Car?"
"Gone."
"Phone?"
"Off."
My stomach tightened.
"What about Claire?"
Powell shook his head.
"Nobody knows where she is."
Robert sat again.
Then my phone buzzed.
A photograph.
Taken through a car windshield.
A motel.
The timestamp was eleven minutes earlier.
Beneath it:
VALE AND CLAIRE ARE HERE.
Morales grabbed the address metadata.
"Where?"
Before she could answer, another message appeared.
NOT ALONE.
The next photograph showed a man standing beside the motel door.
Broad shoulders.
Shaved head.
Black jacket.
Victor Hale.
Then a final message from Crane.
AND THEY HAVE WILLIAM.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: William Was Missing, Victor Hale Had Him, and Robert Finally Admitted Why Our Driver Knew More Than Anyone Else
While Everyone Watched Me Mourn My Husband, His Name Appeared on My Phone With a Warning About Our Sons
Part 10 of 25
