Chapter 2 - THE SECOND PHONE
The second phone belonged to Luke.
Not officially.
Officially, it belonged to no one.
Prepaid.
No name.
No contract.
But the lock screen showed a photograph of a yacht in Miami I recognized immediately.
Luke had sent me the same picture six months earlier and told me it came from “a client retreat.”
Detective Harris asked me to identify it.
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“I have the original in our family text thread.”
Luke’s attorney arrived forty minutes later.
Of course he did.
Mason Pike.
Expensive suit.
Expensive watch.
A face professionally trained to show concern without revealing anything.
He immediately instructed Luke not to answer more questions.
Then he turned toward me.
“Mrs. Vance, I strongly recommend that you and your husband present a united position until we understand what occurred.”
I almost laughed.
“United?”
“Your daughter needs stability.”
“My daughter needs parents who didn't leave her in a car.”
“Luke wasn't driving.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“He was just preparing legal documents before anyone had confirmed whether she was alive.”
Mason's face barely moved.
Luke stepped closer.
“Clover, can we speak alone?”
“No.”
“Please.”
That word sounded unnatural in his mouth.
I looked at Detective Harris.
She nodded toward a small waiting room.
“If you want.”
I did.
Not because I trusted him.
Because I wanted to hear what he thought could still fix this.
Luke closed the door.
Then he said:
“Eight hundred thousand.”
I stared.
“What?”
“I'll transfer eight hundred thousand dollars into an account solely in your name.”
I actually laughed.
My daughter was in intensive care and my husband was bidding.
“For what?”
“You sign the confidentiality agreement.”
“No.”
“You state that Camellia picked Brucie up with your knowledge.”
“No.”
“You agree the vehicle malfunction caused the delay.”
“No.”
“And we handle the rest privately.”
I stared at him.
“Why eight hundred thousand?”
His jaw tightened.
“You're going to need money if this marriage ends.”
There it was.
Not grief.
Leverage.
I walked toward him.
“Do you know what Brucie calls you when you travel?”
His face changed.
“What?”
“She calls your office chair Daddy’s chair.”
He looked confused.
“She thinks when you’re gone, the chair is waiting for you.”
“Clover—”
“She saves drawings for you.”
My voice broke.
“She asks whether every black sedan is your car.”
He looked away.
“And you're standing here offering me money to lie about what happened to her.”
“I didn't hurt her.”
“Then why do you need me to lie?”
Silence.
I opened the door.
Luke grabbed my wrist.
“Think carefully.”
I looked down.
He released me.
“If you push this criminally, everything comes apart.”
“Everything is already apart.”
“You don't know what you're destroying.”
I looked him in the eyes.
“Then maybe the police will tell me.”
I walked out.
Detective Harris was waiting.
“So?”
I took a breath.
“He offered me eight hundred thousand dollars.”
Mason Pike closed his eyes.
Luke looked furious.
The detective asked:
“In exchange for?”
“Silence.”
Luke snapped:
“That is not what I said.”
I turned.
“You wanted me to sign an affidavit saying I knew Camellia was picking Brucie up.”
“You did know.”
“No.”
Camellia was standing thirty feet away with her attorney.
She began crying.
Detective Harris approached her.
“What time did you pick Brucie up?”
Camellia's lawyer tried to stop her.
She whispered:
“Eleven forty-five.”
I felt the floor move.
“Eleven forty-five?”
Preschool ended at four.
She had picked up my daughter more than four hours early.
“Why?”
Camellia looked at Luke.
He stared back.
That look told me everything.
Detective Harris saw it too.
“Ms. Reyes?”
Camellia shook.
“Luke said he needed Brucie.”
I turned toward my husband.
“For what?”
He said nothing.
Camellia continued.
“He told the school there was a family appointment.”
“You weren't authorized for early pickup.”
“He added me.”
I stared at Luke.
“You changed the pickup list?”
“I’m her father.”
“When?”
No answer.
Detective Harris asked again.
“When did you add Ms. Reyes?”
“Last month.”
“Why?”
“Convenience.”
Camellia started sobbing.
“It wasn't supposed to happen like this.”
Everyone became still.
“What wasn't?” I asked.
Her attorney whispered:
“Do not answer.”
Camellia looked at me anyway.
“We were supposed to take Brucie to a photographer.”
I frowned.
“What photographer?”
Luke closed his eyes.
Camellia continued.
“For a family campaign.”
I had no idea what she meant.
Luke was a senior executive at Vance Urban Development, his father's old real-estate company.
They had been negotiating a massive investment partnership.
Luke had apparently promised investors a campaign portraying himself as a stable family man taking control of the company while balancing fatherhood.
Brucie was supposed to appear in photographs.
Without me.
“Why wasn't I told?”
Camellia whispered:
“Luke said you wouldn't agree.”
Correct.
Our child was not a marketing prop.
“What happened?”
“The photographer canceled.”
“When?”
“Noon.”
“So why didn't you take Brucie back?”
Camellia looked at Luke again.
“He told me to wait.”
“Where?”
“Near the hotel.”
“What hotel?”
Silence.
Detective Harris took over.
“Ms. Reyes.”
Camellia began shaking harder.
“The Livingston.”
I knew it.
Luxury hotel downtown.
“Why was Luke there?”
No answer.
I knew before anyone said it.
Not business.
The second phone.
The monthly transfers.
Camellia’s tears.
Luke's desperation.
I looked at her.
“You were sleeping with my husband.”
She cried.
That was answer enough.
I felt surprisingly little.
Maybe there are limits to how much betrayal a person can absorb in one day.
“What does that have to do with Brucie being trapped?”
Camellia covered her face.
“Luke came downstairs after one.”
“You met him?”
“Yes.”
“Where was Brucie?”
“In the SUV.”
My stomach turned.
“You left her alone?”
“I thought I would be five minutes.”
“How long?”
Camellia sobbed.
“I don't know.”
“You know.”
“Twenty minutes.”
Detective Harris said:
“The parking records show you entered the hotel garage at 12:58 and the vehicle remained parked until 3:06.”
I stopped breathing.
More than two hours.
Camellia shook her head violently.
“No. I came down.”
“When?”
“About one-thirty.”
“And?”
“The door wouldn't open.”
“Then why didn't you call 911?”
She looked at Luke.
The entire hallway went silent.
Luke said:
“Do not answer.”
Detective Harris's expression changed.
Camellia whispered:
“I called Luke.”
I looked at him.
He didn't move.
“What did he say?”
Her tears fell harder.
“He told me not to call anyone until he came downstairs.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Why?”
Camellia looked at Luke.
“Because there were documents in the SUV.”
Detective Harris immediately asked:
“What documents?”
Camellia shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Luke's attorney stepped between them.
“This interview is over.”
Detective Harris nodded calmly.
“That's fine.”
Then she looked at Luke.
“We already found the briefcase.”
His face went white.
I remembered the officers searching the vehicle.
The second phone.
Now a briefcase.
“What was inside?” I asked.
The detective did not answer.
But Luke tried to leave.
Two officers stepped forward.
“Mr. Vance, remain here.”
His legs nearly gave way.
Not because of Camellia.
Not because of the affair.
Not even because Brucie was in intensive care.
Something inside that SUV frightened him more.
May you like
And I intended to find out what.
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