Chapter 6 - Someone Asked About the Surgery
Marlo's father had been dead for nine years.
Samuel Hart had been a mechanic, amateur fisherman, terrible dancer, excellent father, and—unless he'd lived an astonishing secret life—had absolutely nothing in common with the Marchetti family.
"You knew my father?"
Elias stood near the door.
"Yes."
"How?"
"That's a longer conversation."
"Then sit down."
"Not tonight."
Marlo stepped between him and the door.
"Nine years, Elias."
"I know."
"My father has been dead nine years, and a man I've never met starts buying pastries from me every Tuesday because somehow he knew him?"
"Marlo."
"No."
Her voice cracked.
"You don't get to leave after saying that."
Elias looked toward the stairs.
"Poppy needs you calm tonight."
"Don't use my daughter to avoid answering."
"I'm not."
"Then answer."
He studied her.
Finally, he removed his coat.
They sat.
"Your father saved my life," Elias said.
Marlo stared.
"When?"
"Eleven years ago."
"From what?"
"A mistake."
"What kind?"
"The kind that gets people killed."
She waited.
Elias's gaze dropped to his hands.
"I was twenty-four. Angry. Reckless. I believed having the Marchetti name made me untouchable."
"And?"
"It didn't."
He told her only fragments.
A winter night.
A warehouse.
A business dispute that had become something worse.
Samuel Hart had been repairing a delivery truck nearby when violence erupted.
He found Elias bleeding behind the building.
Instead of leaving him, Samuel put him into his old pickup and drove him to a hospital.
"He stayed?" Marlo asked.
"Until sunrise."
"That sounds like Dad."
"He never asked my name."
Marlo smiled sadly.
"That sounds even more like Dad."
"Years later, I learned his."
"How?"
"I tried to find him."
Elias looked at her.
"He was already gone."
Marlo swallowed.
"So you found me."
"Eventually."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I didn't know how."
"So you bought pastries for a year?"
"I liked the pastries."
Despite herself, Marlo laughed.
Then Elias's expression turned serious.
"Your father told me something that night."
"What?"
"He said if I survived, I should spend less time deciding what people owed me and more time deciding what I owed them."
Marlo looked away.
That was exactly the sort of thing Samuel Hart would have said.
Too wise.
Too simple.
Impossible to forget.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Both looked at it.
Marlo answered.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Hart?"
Daniel Mercer.
"Yes."
"I found something."
Marlo put the phone on speaker.
Elias listened.
"The request concerning Poppy came through a legal research contractor," Daniel said.
"Which contractor?"
"Halden Strategic."
Elias's eyes sharpened.
"You know them?" Marlo asked.
Daniel went silent.
"Who is that?"
"Elias Marchetti," Elias said.
A longer silence.
Then Daniel whispered, "I shouldn't have called."
The line disconnected.
Marlo stared at the phone.
"What just happened?"
Elias was already standing.
"Stay upstairs tonight."
"Why?"
"Lock everything."
"Elias."
He looked at her.
"Halden Strategic works for attorneys, corporations and private clients who don't want their names attached to questions."
"Like Preston's lawyer?"
"Possibly."
"Possibly?"
Elias picked up his coat.
"I'm going to find Daniel."
Marlo grabbed his sleeve.
"Don't scare him."
"I'm not going to scare him."
"You scared him by saying your name."
"That wasn't intentional."
"That's somehow worse."
For a moment, Elias almost smiled.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message.
He read it.
The smile vanished.
"What?"
Elias turned the screen toward her.
A photograph.
Poppy leaving school three weeks earlier.
Another.
Marlo carrying groceries.
Another.
The bakery at night.
Another.
Marlo standing at the upstairs window.
The photograph taken the previous evening.
"Where did you get these?"
"Victor Saye's cloud account."
"You hacked him?"
"No."
"Someone did."
"Yes."
Marlo felt sick.
Then Elias swiped to the final image.
It wasn't a photograph.
It was an invoice.
Client initials only.
P.A.
Marlo stopped breathing.
"Preston Ashby."
"We don't know that."
"Who else?"
Elias enlarged the invoice.
Under PROJECT DESCRIPTION were four words:
MATERNAL FITNESS / MEDICAL TIMELINE
Marlo's fear became anger.
"He had someone watching us."
"Looks that way."
"And asking about whether Poppy could survive a delay."
"We still need proof connecting the medical request."
"I don't care."
"I do."
"Why?"
"Because tomorrow you're walking into court."
He leaned closer.
"And if Preston has built a case by manipulating your daughter's medical situation, suspicion won't save you."
Marlo looked toward the ceiling.
Toward Poppy's bedroom.
"What will?"
Elias's expression hardened.
"Evidence."
At that exact moment, somewhere outside, tires screeched.
Then came the sound of breaking glass.
The bakery's front window exploded inward.
Marlo screamed.
Elias pulled her down behind the counter.
Something rolled across the floor.
Not a bullet.
Not a bomb.
A brick.
Wrapped around it was a piece of paper.
Elias reached for it.
Three words had been written in black ink.
MISS THE HEARING.
Marlo stared.
May you like
Tomorrow wasn't merely a custody hearing anymore.
Someone was desperate to make sure she never reached it.
