Chapter 12 - The Call From Clara
Clara called from a blocked number at midnight.
"You're really going to let them put me in jail?" she demanded.
Mark sat on the edge of the guest-room bed. Sarah was awake beside him.
"You hurt my daughter. You forged documents. Whatever happens next is the result of your choices."
"You have no idea what Nolan can do. He'll bury me."
"Then tell the investigators what you know."
"You used to stand up for me."
"I used to mistake protecting you for doing the right thing."
For a moment, he heard her breathing. "I needed money," she said. "The venue folded. The loans came due. Nolan said there was a way out."
"And Sophie? Did he tell you to hurt Sophie?"
"She wouldn't give me the tablet. I barely touched her."
Mark's chest tightened. There it was again: the same small lie built to hide something enormous.
"She has a bruise on her face," he said. "She thought we'd be ashamed of her."
Clara said nothing.
"Don't contact us again," he told her. "Speak to your attorney."
He ended the call and documented it for Detective Ortiz. Sleep did not come easily.
The next day Sophie met a counselor who helped her practice words for feelings she couldn't yet name. She drew a picture of her family behind a red door. On the other side stood a woman with long arms.
"Does the door have a lock?" Sarah asked.
Sophie drew one. "Two," she corrected.
That evening Sarah's sister June called from downstairs.
"There's a gray truck outside," she said. "It's been there twenty minutes."
May you like
Mark looked through the window.
A man stood beside the truck, holding a phone toward the house.
