Brooke stared at the screen.

The phone buzzed once.

Twice.

Three times.

She didn't pick it up.

"He knows," she said.

"He knows Grant was taken in tonight?"

"He knows everything.

Grant would have called him the moment he had a chance." She watched the screen until it went dark.

"He's trying to find out what I told the police."

"Don't answer it."

"I'm not going to." She turned the phone face-down.

"But the fact that he called means he's scared."

Detective Harlan came back through the front door.

He saw the expression on Brooke's face and stopped.

"What happened?"

"Daniel Prentiss just called my daughter's cell phone," I said.

He pulled out his own phone immediately.

"Don't call back.

Don't respond.

Don't delete the call log." He was already dialing as he said it.

Brooke nodded.

She was very still, the way she went still when she was thinking hard.

"He has my number because he came to our wedding," she said quietly, mostly to herself.

"He's been to our house.

He knows where I live."

"You're not going home tonight," I said.

"I know."

"You're coming to my house."

"Mom — "

"Brooke."

She looked at me.

Whatever argument she'd been forming, she let it go.

"Okay."

Detective Harlan finished his call and came back to us.

"The financial crimes unit is very interested in that call.

They're going to want Brooke's phone records subpoenaed, which means — "

"Don't delete anything," Brooke said.

"I know."

"You've thought about this."

"I've thought about everything." She said it without pride.

Just fact.

He nodded slowly.

"Your formal statement is going to take another hour at least.

Is there someone who can stay with your mother while — "

"I'm staying," I said.

"Mrs.

Calloway, it may be a long night."

"I raised that woman.

I'm staying."

He didn't argue.

The next hour moved in pieces.

A uniformed officer brought us water.

The restaurant manager came by once to ask, apologetically, if there was any sense of when they might be able to close.

Detective Harlan told him it would be at least another hour and the manager nodded and went away without complaint.

Brooke gave her formal statement at a table near the back.

Her attorney participated by phone.

I sat close enough to hear the tone of Brooke's voice but not the words, which was how she wanted it.

She spoke for a long time.

Steady, clear, unhurried.

At one point she stopped.

A long pause.

Then she continued.

I didn't ask what that pause was about.

When it was over, she came back to the table and sat down and drank half her glass of water without speaking.

"Okay?" I asked.

"Yes." She set the glass down.

"There's something I didn't put in the folder.

Something I only just told them."

I waited.

"Last spring, Grant told me he'd updated the emergency contact on my medical records.

He said it was just routine.

I didn't think about it." She looked at her hands.

"He removed you.

He put his mother."

The room was quiet.

"If anything had happened to me," she said, "you wouldn't have been called."

I sat with that for a moment.

The full weight of it.

"He thought of everything," I said.

"He thought he had." She looked up.

"He didn't think of the back seat of my car."

Outside, the unmarked car was still there.

One of the plain-clothes officers was on his phone, pacing slowly along the sidewalk.

The other was looking at something on a tablet.

Grant's vehicle was gone.

I hadn't noticed it leave.

"Where did they take him?" I asked Detective Harlan when he returned.

"He's been processed and held pending arraignment." He sat down.

"His attorney filed for bail tonight.

Given the recording and the financial crimes connection, the DA's office is opposing it."

"Will they succeed?"

"I can't say for certain.

But the judge assigned to the arraignment is known for being careful with domestic cases." He paused.

"There's one more thing.

Grant's mother."

I looked at him.

"She's been cooperative since she asked for a lawyer.

More cooperative than we expected." He kept his voice neutral.

"She's indicated she may have information about the financial arrangement between Grant and Prentiss."

"She knew about it," I said.

"It appears so."

"And she's offering that information now."

"She is."

I thought about the woman who had sat across from me at that dinner table and smiled.

Who had said *maybe now she'll learn not to challenge her husband.* Who had spent the evening treating my daughter's humiliation as entertainment.

"She's trying to protect herself," I said.

"That would be my read, yes."

Brooke was quiet.

Then she said, "Let her.

Whatever she gives them — let her give it.

As long as it helps."

Detective Harlan nodded.

He stood, excused himself again, and walked toward the door.

Brooke's phone lit up on the table.

Daniel Prentiss again.

This time, he left a voicemail.