Chapter 6 - The Price of a Lie
Natalie was charged with attempted first-degree murder and aggravated battery of a child.
Her attorney, Warren Pike, responded by attacking Sofia.
He stood before television cameras outside the courthouse.
“My client maintains that the video does not show the entire incident. We believe Ms. Ramirez had interfered with the stroller immediately beforehand and that Ms. Mercer acted in panic.”
Sofia watched from Ben’s office.
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to,” Ben said. “It only has to create doubt.”
Pike continued.
“We will also present evidence that Ms. Ramirez had demonstrated an unusual interest in the Hayes family.”
Sofia switched off the television.
Her phone rang.
Her landlord.
“Ms. Ramirez, reporters are blocking the entrance.”
“I know.”
“Other tenants are complaining.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want this resolved.”
She hung up.
Ben handed her an envelope.
“What’s that?”
“Your pay.”
“I told you not to—”
“Take it.”
She did.
Not because she wanted Michael’s charity.
Because her rent was due.
That afternoon, Michael met her at a coffee shop away from the river.
He slid a legal retainer agreement across the table.
“I hired you an attorney.”
Sofia didn’t touch it.
“No.”
“Pike is threatening a civil suit.”
“I can’t afford one.”
“That’s why—”
“No.”
Michael exhaled.
“Sofia.”
“You keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Buying solutions.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“Protect Emma.”
“I’m doing both.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
He had no immediate answer.
Finally he said, “Because you’re in this because of me.”
“No. I’m in this because I saw a baby rolling toward a river.”
He leaned forward.
“Grant had you investigated before that night. That means this started before you jumped.”
Sofia’s anger faded.
“Why would anyone investigate a waitress?”
Michael lowered his voice.
“We found something in corporate security records.”
He showed her a photograph.
Sofia recognized herself.
She was standing outside Glasswater three months earlier.
Beside her was a woman with dark hair.
Sofia’s breath caught.
“Laura.”
Michael went still.
“You knew my wife?”
“Not well.”
His late wife, Laura Hayes, had died from complications after Emma’s birth.
Sofia had known her only as Laura.
No last name.
No security detail.
No billionaire husband.
“She came to Glasswater four times,” Sofia said.
“When?”
“During her pregnancy.”
“Why?”
“She met someone.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Michael’s expression tightened.
“Why didn’t you tell the detective?”
“Because I didn’t know she was your wife until I saw a photograph yesterday.”
“What did she say to you?”
Sofia searched her memory.
“Mostly nothing. Once she asked me whether the restaurant kept old guest receipts.”
Michael frowned.
“Receipts?”
“She said someone was using Glasswater for meetings they didn’t want on company calendars.”
His face changed.
“Grant.”
“I don’t know.”
“You took a photograph with her.”
“She asked me to.”
“Why?”
Sofia looked down.
“Because she said if anything happened to her, somebody might need to prove she had been here.”
Michael went silent.
“Did she give you anything?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Sofia almost answered.
Then remembered something.
Laura had left a large tip inside a cream envelope.
Sofia had never opened the small folded card tucked beneath the cash.
She had put it into a shoebox with old thank-you notes.
Michael saw her face.
“What?”
Sofia stood.
“I need to go home.”
They reached her apartment twenty minutes later.
The door was open.
The lock had been broken.
Drawers were overturned.
Cabinets emptied.
The shoebox was gone.
On Sofia’s kitchen table lay another restaurant receipt.
This one contained only a date.
April 17.
May you like
Michael stared at it.
“My wife died on April eighteenth.”
