Chapter 7 - THE QUESTION HE COULDN'T ANSWER
The investigators' names were Agent Morales and Detective Shaw. They arrived without flashing their badges at the gates or announcing themselves over the house intercom. Nathan brought them into the library, instructed Marco to provide coffee, and told the security team not to interfere.
I watched all of this from the hallway with Daniel's notebook pressed against my ribs. It would have been comforting to call Nathan brave. The truth was messier. Cooperation had become his best available option, and I still didn't know whether he'd chosen it because it was right or because he was cornered.
Nora was already on her way. She'd told me not to answer substantive questions without counsel present, especially when my identity as Nathan's new wife might complicate anything I said about the warehouse. I wasn't trying to hide evidence. I wanted every statement handled well enough that nobody could dismiss it later as the revenge fantasy of a bitter widow.
Detective Shaw noticed me standing near the door. “Mrs. Parker?”
“I'm Emily Brooks legally,” I said. “Parker is my late husband's name. I'd prefer Emily.”
“Of course. Are you willing to speak with us separately when your attorney arrives?”
“Yes.”
Nathan glanced up, a brief flash of gratitude crossing his face. I couldn't return it. This wasn't a favor for him.
The detectives questioned us for most of the afternoon. They asked about Daniel's reports, the unusual route code in his notebook, the maintenance contract, Eleanor's recording, and the lilies Victor had sent to the house. I provided copies through Nora, preserved the originals, and told them what I actually knew instead of filling the gaps with what I feared.
When it was Nathan's turn, I waited outside. His voice occasionally carried through the study door. I heard him confirm that he had approved the disputed budget, lifted the suspension, and accepted Victor's assurances without verifying them.
Then Agent Morales asked a question I had asked him myself.
“Mr. Brooks, did you know before the fire that your cousin might have been diverting shipments?”
The pause lasted long enough for me to imagine the Arizona highway again. No traffic. No food. Forty-seven cents so hot in my hand that the edges seemed to cut my skin.
“Yes,” Nathan said at last. “I suspected it.”
My stomach dropped. The difference between suspecting fraud and ordering a murder mattered in court. To me, in that moment, it was also the difference between a man I'd begun to trust and a man who had allowed himself to remain comfortably ignorant.
I left the hallway before I heard anything else.
In Eleanor's kitchen, I filled a glass of water and stared at the sunlight moving across the tiles. For two years I'd tried to imagine how Daniel's final minutes had unfolded. I'd always stopped the story before the fire reached him. Now I was imagining the men who could have prevented it, men who had eaten dinners and signed cheques while my husband filed reports they wouldn't read. I gripped the glass until my hand ached, then set it down carefully. The children would be home soon. Whatever I did next had to leave me capable of being their mother.
At dinner, Noah wanted to discuss the science project he was planning with his new classmate. They were building a wind-powered water pump from a broken bicycle wheel. Nathan listened seriously, asked intelligent questions, and offered to buy the supplies. Noah declined because the school had a recycling budget.
“Good answer,” Nathan said.
I sat opposite them feeling two versions of my life scrape against each other. At this table, Nathan was the man who remembered Lily hated peas and who had replaced the missing chess queen with a piece Noah carved from clay. Behind the study door, he was a businessman who'd ignored the warning signs around a warehouse until someone died.
After the children went upstairs, I asked him directly what he'd told the investigators.
“I suspected Victor was stealing from the shipments,” he said. “I didn't think he was putting workers at risk.”
“Daniel told your people the exits were chained. How much clearer did the warning have to be?”
“I didn't read his original report.”
“Because you didn't want to?”
Nathan looked at his hands. “Because it was easy to let someone else handle it. That's not a defense.”
“No. It's not.”
He pulled out the chair opposite him but didn't sit until I nodded. “If you want to take the children somewhere else, I'll help you find a safe place. Nothing you've been given under the agreement disappears.”
“Stop saying you'll help me as if that fixes what happened.”
“Then tell me what you need.”
“The ability to leave without wondering whether men like Victor will follow us.”
Nathan didn't promise something impossible. He said he'd arrange for the investigators to review the threats and for Nora to determine what independent protection was appropriate. It was a practical answer, and I hated that I still needed practical answers from him.
The next morning, Nora found a temporary apartment in Tucson that met my budget. The security measures were arranged through an outside company I chose, with costs covered by a separate fund established before our marriage. I signed the lease myself. Lily cried when I told her we were leaving the house with Mr. Cranky. Noah asked whether he could take the chess queen he'd sculpted. Nathan gave him the entire board.
Eleanor didn't try to change my mind. She held my hand and said, “I'm sorry my family's failures reached your husband before I knew you existed.”
“It's not your apology to make for every one of them,” I said. “But I appreciate that you aren't asking me to pretend.”
We hugged carefully, mindful of the pain in her abdomen. She promised Lily a video call if her nurse said she was well enough.
Nathan stood by the gate as our car pulled away. He kept his hands at his sides and made no attempt to stop us. Noah waved. Lily pressed her rabbit against the window, unsure whether she was supposed to say goodbye.
I thought the hardest part would be leaving the comfortable house. It wasn't. The hardest part was admitting I missed the man standing outside it, even while I was furious with him.
May you like
That evening Nora called with news from an old Canyon Gate employee. A dispatcher named Rosa Mendoza had a copy of Daniel's final shift log. She'd been frightened to come forward, but she would meet me if the investigators agreed.
And she claimed the official fire report had omitted one critical detail: the east exit hadn't simply been chained. Someone had ordered it chained that night.
