“And you received a call from the husband.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a recording?”
“No. Standard phone call.”
“Any voicemail?”
“No.”
“Messages before or afterward?”
I opened Chloe’s contact thread with Marcus.
Nothing recent.
Then something occurred to me.
“Possibly.”
“What?”
“Marcus uses a smart-home system. Doorbell, garage camera, indoor security in the downstairs hallway. Chloe once complained that he liked being able to check the house remotely.”
“Do you have access?”
“No.”
“Does Chloe?”
“I don’t know.”
“We’ll ask her when medically appropriate.”
“He may delete it.”
“We’re already working on preservation.”
I exhaled.
Good.
“Detective, there is also terminal footage.”
“I have that.”
That surprised me.
He was moving quickly.
“It shows a vehicle registered to Marcus Hale arriving at 4:15:48.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Is Marcus visible?”
“I’m not discussing evidentiary detail by phone yet.”
Fair.
“Understood.”
“One more thing, Mrs. Bennett.”
“Yes?”
“A patrol unit drove past the Hale residence.”
“And?”
“There are already workers there.”
“The caterers.”
“Likely.”
“Is Marcus home?”
“A vehicle registered to him is in the driveway.”
“What about Sylvia?”
“Another registered vehicle is there as well.”
I closed my eyes.
They were there.
Cooking.
Preparing.
Pretending.
“Detective.”
“Yes?”
“Please do this by the book.”
There was a short silence.
Then he said, “I intend to.”
“You understand why I’m saying that.”
“I do.”
“I don’t want anyone claiming later that a retired federal prosecutor used old relationships to target her son-in-law.”
His voice softened just slightly.
“That thought had already occurred to me.”
“Good.”
“And Mrs. Bennett?”
“Yes?”
“You did the correct thing by not going to the house.”
I looked through the hospital window at a pale strip of dawn.
“I know.”
But God help me, I wanted to.
At 7:11, a doctor came through the double doors.
“Family of Chloe Hale?”
I stood so quickly my chair struck the wall.
“I’m her mother.”
“I’m Dr. Patel.”
“Tell me.”
He did not smile.
Doctors who deliver good news usually begin with some form of reassurance.
He did not.
“She has moderate hypothermia, dehydration, multiple contusions, a fractured wrist, and two cracked ribs. We’re evaluating her for a concussion. There is extensive bruising.”
My breath vanished.
“Internal bleeding?”
“Nothing requiring surgery at this time.”
“At this time?”
“We’re monitoring her closely.”
I stared at him.
“Was she sexually assaulted?”
“We have no indication of that from what she has told us. We’ll follow her wishes regarding any forensic examination.”
I nodded.
My body felt hollow.
“Can I see her?”
