Chapter 3 - THE MAID WHO DISAPPEARED
June Carter had not planned to disappear.
She had planned to resign.
There was a difference.
She had packed her belongings into one suitcase and written a letter explaining that she could no longer work in a household where Delaney's attempts to communicate were dismissed or punished.
Then she heard someone outside her room.
Two men.
One of them was Victor Harlan.
The other she did not recognize.
"Get the notebook," Victor said.
"And the maid?"
A pause.
"She knows too much."
June had escaped through the laundry corridor.
She left the notebook in my library because she believed I might finally read something that wasn't prepared by Graves.
But she had not made it beyond the estate grounds.
A black SUV intercepted her near the old gatehouse.
Now she sat in the back of that vehicle with her wrists secured and her heart hammering.
The unfamiliar man drove.
Victor sat beside him.
"Where are the copies?" Victor asked.
June stared at him.
"What copies?"
"The videos."
She swallowed.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Victor turned.
"Don't waste my time."
June looked out the window.
The city was waking beneath a gray October sky.
People were buying coffee.
Children were waiting for school buses.
Somewhere, Delaney was probably wondering why June had not returned.
That thought hurt more than the restraints.
June had grown up in a household where illness made everyone impatient.
Her younger brother, Oliver, had cerebral palsy.
He communicated slowly and needed assistance with many daily activities.
Their father had been loving but exhausted.
Their mother worked two jobs.
June learned early that waiting was not the same as doing nothing.
Sometimes the most important thing you could give someone was enough time to finish a thought.
That was what she had given Delaney.
Time.
When Delaney reached for a block, June waited.
When she struggled to form a word, June did not guess.
When she became frightened, June asked whether she wanted the activity to stop.
And little by little, Delaney began trusting her.
Not because June possessed miraculous medical knowledge.
Because June listened.
Victor's phone rang.
He answered.
"Yes?"
His expression changed.
"He's arranging an independent review?"
June looked up.
Victor swore.
Then turned toward the driver.
"Change of plan."
"Where?"
"The old conservatory."
June felt cold.
The Moretti family owned an abandoned glass conservatory outside Lake Forest.
She had seen photographs of it in the estate archive.
It had been closed for years.
Victor ended the call.
Then looked at her.
"You're going to tell us exactly what Delaney said about the accident."
June met his eyes.
"No."
He smiled.
"You're in no position to refuse."
June thought of the small blue notebook.
Of the six words she had written.
Of the man who had stood in the foyer and looked at his sister as though seeing her for the first time.
May you like
She hoped he had understood.
Because she was beginning to fear she would never get another chance to explain.
