Chapter 55 Chapter 55
Chapter 55 Chapter 55
Laura clutched the phone in her left hand and set the USB drive on the bedspread.
“Vanessa.”
“Sister-in-law.”
“Where are you calling from?”
“That’s the least important thing about the two minutes you have left on the phone. The real question is: Have you heard it yet?”
“I’ve heard it.”
—Good.
—Vanessa, before you go any further, I want to let you know something. Derek’s been tracing this call since the second ring. I don’t care—I’m just letting you know so you know I’m not an idiot.
—I know, sister-in-law, that’s why I’m calling you. I want them to trace it. I want your husband to find out that we talked.
—Why?
—Because when he finds out we talked, he’s going to ask you about the recording. And you’re going to have to decide whether to believe him, me, or a recording.
Long pause.
—Vanessa.
—Yes.
“Did you send the envelope?”
—I sent it.
—Why?
—Sister-in-law, because you and I deserve to know who we’re marrying. I got off easy because neither of them wanted me. But you tied the knot with one of them. And you deserve to know if he married you out of love or for your money.
—Vanessa.
—Yes.
—Is the audio edited, or is it real?
Three-second pause.
—Sister-in-law, that’s up to you.
—Vanessa.
“My minute and a half is up in thirty seconds. If you really want to ask something, ask it now.”
Laura clenched her jaw.
“When was that audio recording made?”
“March 22nd of last year, at 12:00 a.m., in the main study of the Cavalier mansion, a conversation between Ethan Cavalier and Manuel Cavalier, with no witnesses. That’s the original date. If you have it examined, check it there.”
“And was the kiss all they talked about that day?”
“No, sister-in-law. They talked about a lot of things. But what you heard—they said it. I swear to you on the prison sentence I’m facing.”
Pause.
“Bye, sister-in-law.”
Vanessa hung up.
Laura held the phone to her ear for three seconds, listening to the dial tone, before putting it down.
Forty seconds later, it rang again. Derek.
“Ma’am.”
“Derek.”
“The call came from an authorized phone belonging to an attorney who had a private interview with prisoner Vanessa Ashford yesterday. Line not authorized for external use. We’ve been on alert for eight minutes. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Your husband?”
—Don’t tell him anything, Derek.
—Ma’am, this goes in my daily report per protocol.
—Derek.
—Yes.
“Put it in your report. But don’t give it to my husband for twenty-four hours. Okay?”
Four-second pause.
“All right, ma’am.”
She hung up.
Laura tossed the phone onto the blanket. The USB drive was still beside her.
March 22 of last year. I could verify that date. That month, his mom was undergoing her second round of chemo; she hadn’t yet been placed on palliative care. Cavalier was still awake; he didn’t slip into a coma until June. Manuel hadn’t met Elena at the Memorial yet—that happened later.
Or maybe he had.
That was what Laura couldn’t rule out.
Laura spent the next forty-eight hours in the west wing with the door closed and the USB drive in the pocket of her scrubs every time she changed them.
She went down for breakfast on Monday at eight, wearing her white uniform and the three rings on her left hand.
Cavalier was already on the terrace with Marcela and Manuel. He looked up when she walked in. Laura didn’t look at him. She sat next to Marcela, not across from him. Gloria poured her some coffee.
“Cavalier.”
“Laura.”
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
Three seconds.
—Laura, how did you wake up this morning?
—Fine.
—Vargas?
—Vargas is coming by at four today.
—Okay.
—Good.
She took three bites of the egg, took a sip of coffee, left the napkin folded next to her plate, and stood up.
—Marcela.
—Honey.
“I’m going to the clinic. I’ll be back at two.”
“Okay.”
She didn’t say anything to Cavalier. She walked to the lobby. She got into the sedan. She drove off.
At the clinic, she worked her four-hour shift as if nothing had happened. A meeting with Patricio at nine, a call with the accountant at ten, and check-ups on two new patients at eleven. She called Carla from her desk at 11:30. Carla gave her the expert’s name.
“Lau, this one’s good. I told my cousin it was for a friend from the hospital, in a civil lawsuit. He’ll see you tomorrow at noon if you confirm today.”
“I’ll confirm. Send me the address. And one more thing, Carla.”
“Go ahead.”
“I need you to come with me when I go. Wear a white coat. We’ll tell him the audio is from one of our patients. Okay?”
“Okay.”
She returned to the mansion at two.
She had lunch in the dining room with Marcela and Manuel. Cavalier was sitting across from her. Laura passed him the salt without looking at him when he asked for it. Manuel poured the wine. Marcela talked about Saturday’s dinner. The conversation lasted forty minutes. Laura participated for five of them. She replied to Marcela twice and to Manuel once. To Cavalier, not at all.
When she brought up the fruit, Cavalier spoke to her directly.
—Laura.
“Yes.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Nothing, Cavalier.”
“You seem different.”
—I’m processing.
“Processing what?”
—What I need to process.
Pause.
—Okay.
“Okay.”
Marcela took Cavalier’s hand under the table. Manuel stared at his plate.
At four in the afternoon, Vargas arrived at the small office in the mansion. He took his blood pressure, listened to his heart, and checked his neck. He asked him three questions.
“Mendoza, have you eaten?”
“I did.”
“Any vomiting?”
“Once on Saturday.”
“Any bleeding?”
—None.
—Good. I’ll be back on Thursday. If anything happens before then, give me a call.
—Okay.
Vargas looked at her for three more seconds.
—Mendoza.
—Yes.
“I don’t want to meddle in your business, but that child is just starting out. Whatever issues you have with your husband, take them down to the garden—not to the suite, not to my office, and not on the walls of the bedroom. Okay?”
“Vargas.”
“Yes.”
—I’m doing my best.
—Good.
On Tuesday at 11:30, she went down to the sedan with Carla, who had picked her up at the mansion wearing a white lab coat and holding a sealed envelope.
The expert had a small office on the second floor of a building on 42nd Street. Gray hair, thick-rimmed glasses, a calm voice.
“Doctor.”
“Doctor.”
“It’ll take me three days to analyze the file. If it’s been edited, I’ll find it. If it hasn’t, I’ll find that too. Twelve hundred dollars.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll call you on Friday.”
—Okay.
Carla paid in cash. Laura didn’t sign anything with her name.
They left.
She returned to the mansion at two.
Cavalier was waiting for her in the lobby. Manuel was behind him.
“Laura.”
“Cavalier.”
“Where did you go?”
“I had a date with Carla.”
“Is Carla okay?”
—Carla’s fine. It was my appointment with a doctor she recommended to me.
—Isn’t Vargas good enough for you?
“Vargas is good enough for me, Cavalier, but I wanted a second opinion. Is there a problem?”
Pause.
—None at all.
—All right.
She went up to the west wing. She closed the door. She locked it.
On Wednesday at 7:20 in the morning, while she was showering, she felt a cramp in her lower abdomen. She turned off the water, stepped out into the room wrapped in a towel, and sat on the edge of the bed.
She reached down.
A spot. Blood—not much, but enough to recognize it instantly.
“Shit.”
She reached for the phone.
“Vargas.”
“Mendoza.”
“Bleeding. Brown, light. Mild cramping. Started three minutes ago.”
“Where are you?”
“Suite in the west wing.”
—Lie on your back, legs elevated, don’t move. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Let Marcela know, but don’t tell Cavalier yet.
—Okay.
She called Marcela.
—Honey.
—Marcela, Vargas is coming in twenty minutes. I’m bleeding.
“I’m on my way.”
Vargas arrived at a quarter to eight.
He examined her in bed. Portable ultrasound. Blood pressure. He had her lie on her side. He spoke to her softly, professionally.
—Mendoza, it’s a threatened miscarriage. Possible late implantation bleeding, but for now I’m diagnosing it as a threatened miscarriage until the ultrasound rules it out. I need three things: complete bed rest—don’t get out of bed except to use the bathroom; stay hydrated; and zero stress. That last one is just as important as the other two.
“Vargas.”
“Mendoza.”
“Am I going to lose the baby?”
“Not today. If you take care of yourself for the next seventy-two hours, no. If you don’t take care of yourself, it depends.”
—Okay.
—I’ll leave you some medication. And I’ll let Cavalier know.
—Vargas, no.
—Mendoza, that’s non-negotiable.
“All right.”
Vargas left the room. Marcela sat down next to the bed. She took his left hand.
“My love.”
—Marcela.
“One thing.”
“Yes.”
“Whatever you have to do with my son can wait. But not that child.”
—Marcela.
—I know. But I’m telling you anyway.
—Okay.
Long pause.
—Marcela.
—Yes.
“I’ll talk to your son tomorrow.”
“Are you going to talk to him?”
“I’ll play the audio for him.”
—The audio?
“Yes.”
Marcela gripped his hand tighter.
—Laura.
“Yes.”
“Before you send voice messages to my son, let me listen to it first.”
“Marcela.”
“Today. Before my son comes into the room.”
Cavalier entered the room in the west wing at 8:20 in the morning, his scar tugging at him and his face that of a man who’d been running up the stairs three at a time for the past ten minutes.
Marcela was sitting next to the bed. She ran her hand down her son’s back.
“Son.”
—Mom.
“Your wife is fine. The baby is fine, too. But we have to take care of her.”
“Yes.”
Cavalier sat down on the other side of the bed. He didn’t touch Laura’s hand. He looked at her.
“Laura.”
“Cavalier.”
“Are you okay?”
“I am.”
A long pause.
—Laura.
—Yes.
“What’s been going on for the past three days?”
Laura looked at him for five seconds.
“Cavalier.”
—Yeah.
“We’ll talk tomorrow. I can’t do it today.”
“Okay.”
“But I want to tell you something.”
—Go ahead.
—Don’t leave the room when I come to sleep tonight.
—You want me to sleep here?
“I want you to sleep on the couch, Cavalier. Not in the bed. On the couch. Just in case things get complicated tonight.”
“Fine.”
Cavalier stared for three seconds at his left hand clenched against the blanket, where three rings were still on his finger. Then he lifted his hand. He turned it over. He saw the bulge in the pocket of his robe.
“Laura.”
—Yes.
“What do you have in your pocket?”
A long pause.
Laura held his gaze.
—Tomorrow, Cavalier.
“All right.”
Cavalier didn’t press the issue.
But at 8:32 a.m. on Wednesday, sitting in the armchair in the West Wing room and watching his pregnant wife—who was at risk of miscarriage—close her eyes on Vargas’s orders, Cavalier knew that what his wife had been holding back from him for three days would be, when she finally said it, the worst thing he would hear in forty-one days of marriage.