Chapter 7: Thursday
The restaurant Marcus chose was the kind of place with low lighting and leather menus and a maître d' who knew his name.
Daniel had been there before, years ago, for a birthday dinner.
Claire had ordered the salmon.
He remembered because she'd said afterward it was the best thing she'd eaten all year.
Marcus was already seated when Daniel arrived.
He stood to embrace him, a firm hand on the back, the kind of hug that said everything is fine between us.
"You look tired," Marcus said, sitting back down.
"Long week."
"How's Lily?"
"She's good.
Growing." Daniel opened the menu without looking at it.
"You said it was important."
Marcus smiled.
Easy, unhurried.
"Can't a brother want to catch up?"
"You said it was important," Daniel repeated.
Marcus set his menu down.
He picked up his wine glass, turned it once.
"I heard something," he said.
"Through a mutual contact.
Someone's been asking questions.
About Claire.
About the accident." He looked at Daniel steadily.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay.
That nobody was putting things in your head that would cause you pain."
"What kind of things?"
"There are people out there who take advantage of grief, Daniel.
Who show up with theories and documents and — stories.
Who make money off people who are still hurting." He leaned forward slightly.
"Has anyone approached you?
Anyone you didn't know before?"
Daniel looked at his brother.
The same face he'd known since childhood.
The same easy confidence.
The same way of making you feel like he was doing you a favor.
"No," Daniel said.
"Nobody."
Marcus held his gaze for a moment, then settled back.
"Good.
I just wanted to check." He signaled the waiter.
"Let's order.
I want to hear about Lily."
They ate.
Marcus talked about a property deal, about a trip he was considering, about a mutual friend who had recently remarried.
He was warm and present and completely at ease.
Daniel answered when asked.
He laughed in the right places.
He watched his brother's hands.
Midway through the main course, Marcus's phone lit up on the table.
He glanced at it and turned it face-down.
But not before Daniel saw the name on the screen.
The same name from the emails.
Marcus picked up his fork.
"You ever think about selling the house?" he asked.
"Getting somewhere smaller, easier to manage?
Just you and Lily?"
"Not really."
"Might be worth considering.
Fresh start." He cut into his food.
"That house has a lot of memories."
"It does," Daniel said.
"Some of them painful."
"Yes."
Marcus looked up.
"Claire would have wanted you to move forward," he said.
"She wouldn't have wanted you stuck."
Daniel set his fork down.
"You're right," he said.
"She wouldn't have."
He picked his fork back up.
Marcus watched him for just a second longer than necessary.
Then he smiled and changed the subject.
---
Outside, in the cold, Daniel sat in his car for a long moment before starting the engine.
His phone buzzed.
Patricia.
He answered.
"The financial crimes contact reviewed the documents," she said.
"He's in.
He wants to move by end of next week."
"Marcus's associate," Daniel said.
"The one connected to the officer who buried Claire's complaint.
Can they get to him too?"
"Already flagged.
They're building it as a connected case." A pause.
"How was dinner?"
Daniel looked through the restaurant window.
Marcus was still at the table, phone to his ear now, head slightly turned away from the room.
"He's scared," Daniel said.
"He's hiding it well.
But he's scared."
"Good," Patricia said.
"Scared people make mistakes."
Daniel started the engine.
"Patricia.
The letter Claire wrote for Lily." He paused.
"When this is over — when it's done — I want Lily to read it.
Not now.
But I want her to know her mother tried to protect her."
"She'll know," Patricia said.
"I'll make sure of it."
May you like
He pulled out of the parking lot.
Behind him, through the glass, Marcus was still on the phone.
