Chapter 2 - The Man on the Phone
Northwestern Memorial Hospital placed Emma under observation.
Sofia occupied a treatment bay two floors below with warmed intravenous fluids running into her arm.
Detective Lena Brooks sat beside her.
“Tell me everything again.”
“I already told the officers.”
“I know.”
Brooks had the patient tone of someone who preferred repetition to mistakes.
Sofia closed her eyes.
“I was serving the Mercer party on the terrace. I saw the stroller moving. Natalie was behind it. I yelled. It went over.”
“Did you see her hands touch it?”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“I almost died because I was certain.”
Brooks studied her.
“Had you ever met Natalie Mercer?”
“No.”
“Michael Hayes?”
“No.”
“Anyone in the Hayes family?”
Sofia hesitated.
“No.”
Brooks noticed.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Sofia.”
She sighed.
“Hayes Meridian owns Glasswater’s building.”
“That matters?”
“Maybe not.”
“What were you going to say?”
“That management had been strange all week. Private reservations. Security people. Ben told us not to ask questions.”
Before Brooks could continue, Michael appeared at the curtain.
His jacket was gone. His white shirt had dried blood on one cuff where an IV had been removed too quickly.
Not his blood, Sofia realized.
Emma’s blood test.
“How is she?” Sofia asked.
“Warm. Angry. Hungry.”
Sofia almost smiled.
Michael didn’t.
“I owe you an apology.”
She looked at him.
“For what?”
“For believing Natalie for even ten seconds.”
“Ten seconds is enough when someone is accusing you of trying to murder a baby.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
Detective Brooks stood.
“Mr. Hayes, Natalie Mercer is being questioned.”
“Is she under arrest?”
“She’s being detained while we establish probable cause.”
“You watched the video.”
“Yes.”
“She pushed my daughter.”
“We’re aware.”
Michael stepped closer.
“And the man on the phone?”
“We’re working on it.”
His expression turned dangerous.
“Work faster.”
Brooks did not blink.
“You can help by giving us the names of every man close enough to your family to know when you were about to walk onto that terrace.”
That stopped him.
Sofia saw the calculation begin.
Employees.
Relatives.
Security.
Executives.
Friends.
“Grant,” Michael whispered.
Brooks caught it.
“Who is Grant?”
“My half brother.”
Sofia watched him carefully.
“Why did you say his name first?”
Michael looked toward the hall.
Because someone was standing there.
A man in an expensive charcoal coat.
Early forties.
Silver at his temples.
Controlled smile.
Grant Hayes.
Michael’s half brother and chief operating officer.
Grant entered slowly.
“I came as soon as I heard.”
Michael said nothing.
Grant’s gaze moved to Sofia.
“You must be the woman who saved Emma.”
Sofia felt something cold that had nothing to do with the river.
“Yes.”
“You were very brave.”
His voice.
Something about it.
Not identical to the recording.
But close enough to make her heartbeat change.
Michael noticed.
“What?”
Sofia shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Grant smiled.
“Trauma plays tricks on memory.”
Detective Brooks’s eyes sharpened.
Nobody had told Grant they were comparing voices.
Michael said quietly, “How did you know she was trying to remember a voice?”
Grant’s smile remained.
“I heard there was a recording.”
“From whom?”
“Mother.”
“Mother wasn’t at the restaurant.”
“No. But news travels quickly when your family name owns half the riverfront.”
Michael stared at him.
Grant’s phone vibrated.
He glanced down.
For the first time, Sofia saw tension enter his face.
“Problem?” Brooks asked.
“Business.”
“Were you speaking to Natalie Mercer tonight?”
“No.”
“When was the last time you spoke with her?”
Grant took a fraction too long.
“This afternoon.”
Michael stepped closer.
“About what?”
“Your engagement dinner.”
“You hate Natalie.”
“I tolerate Natalie.”
“She just tried to kill my daughter.”
Grant’s expression hardened.
“And if you think I had anything to do with that, grief has damaged your judgment.”
Emma’s nurse appeared at the end of the hall.
“Mr. Hayes?”
Michael turned.
Grant looked at Sofia.
Only for a second.
Then he silently touched two fingers to his own wrist.
A strange gesture.
A warning?
A nervous habit?
Sofia didn’t know.
But later, as a nurse brought her dry clothes Ben had sent from Glasswater, Sofia found something inside the pocket of the restaurant cardigan.
A folded guest receipt.
May you like
Written across the back were four words:
YOU SHOULD HAVE LET HER SINK.
