Chapter 5 - MY SISTER’S STATEMENT
Celeste arrived at my office forty minutes later.
She was still wearing clothes from the hotel.
Her hair had been pulled into a loose knot.
There were dark circles beneath her eyes.
The newly married bride looked as though she had aged ten years overnight.
“I didn’t know.”
She said it before sitting.
Evelyn closed the conference-room door.
“Tell us exactly what happened.”
Celeste stared at the floor.
“Raymond came to Mom’s house.”
“Mom was crying.”
I nearly laughed.
Celeste saw my expression.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She looked at me.
“Yes.”
For once, she did not look away.
“I know now.”
That mattered.
Not enough.
But it mattered.
“What did Raymond give you?”
“A statement.”
“Saying?”
“That you approached Mom aggressively.”
“You did.”
“That your posture frightened her.”
“You demanded an apology.”
“You threatened to cut her off from Noelle.”
“You said she would never see her granddaughter again.”
“I said she would never be alone with her.”
Celeste nodded miserably.
“I know.”
“Did the statement mention Mom knocking Noelle down?”
“No.”
“Dumping food on her?”
“No.”
“The threat she made to an eight-year-old?”
“No.”
“So you signed a description of last night that removed everything she did and documented only my reaction.”
Celeste covered her face.
“Yes.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Evelyn leaned forward.
“Was the statement notarized?”
“I think so.”
“By whom?”
“Raymond’s assistant.”
“Did you receive a copy?”
“No.”
“Did you sign electronically or physically?”
“Physically.”
“Did Raymond explain its purpose?”
“He said the hotel might have liability issues.”
Evelyn’s expression hardened.
“That explanation makes no sense.”
Celeste looked sick.
“What can I do?”
“Give us a sworn statement now.”
“Will that fix it?”
“No.”
Evelyn did not soften the answer.
“But it will establish that the first statement was obtained under misleading circumstances.”
Celeste nodded.
Then she looked at me.
“Adrian.”
“What?”
“There is something else.”
I already knew I would hate it.
“What?”
“Mom asked me about Noelle months ago.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did she ask?”
“If I thought you were raising her properly.”
“And?”
“I said yes.”
“What else?”
“She asked if you ever seemed unstable.”
I stared at my sister.
“You never told me?”
“I thought she was being dramatic.”
“My mother is always dramatic.”
“She is rarely random.”
Celeste looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
I wanted to stay angry.
Anger was easier.
Then I remembered Celeste at twelve.
Camille had slapped a report card across her face because of a B-minus.
I had been sixteen.
I had stood between them.
Camille did not hit Celeste again while I lived in that house.
After I left, I never asked whether she started again.
That question stayed in my throat.
I was not ready for the answer.
Evelyn began taking Celeste’s statement.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I ignored it.
It rang again.
Marcus looked at the screen.
“Answer.”
I did.
“Adrian Mercer?”
The voice was professional.
“Yes.”
“This is Rebecca Sloan with Child Protective Services.”
Every person in the room looked at me.
“We received an urgent report concerning your daughter.”
I stood.
“From whom?”
“I’m not permitted to identify the reporter.”
“What allegation?”
“That your daughter has experienced repeated physical injuries while in your custody.”
My eyes went to Lydia.
She went pale.
Rebecca continued.
“We also received photographs.”
Of course they had.
Camille had built the photographs carefully.
Scraped knees.
Playground bruises.
Spilled rooms.
Every ordinary moment edited into a story.
“What happens now?”
“We need to interview you and your daughter.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
Evelyn reached for the phone.
I placed it on speaker.
“My attorney is present.”
Rebecca continued calmly.
“That’s perfectly fine.”
“We would also like to inspect the home.”
“You may.”
“Mr. Mercer, I need to ask something directly.”
“Ask.”
“Does your daughter have access to firearms in the residence?”
“No.”
“Does she witness violent behavior through your occupation?”
“No.”
“Have you ever struck your daughter?”
“No.”
“Have you ever threatened her?”
“No.”
“Has she ever expressed fear of you?”
“No.”
I heard pages turning.
Then Rebecca asked the question Camille had been preparing for months.
“Have you ever left Noelle with caregivers for prolonged periods because of international business travel?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Never continuously for more than several days.”
“And who normally provided care?”
I looked at Celeste.
Then at Lydia.
“My mother.”
Rebecca became silent.
I could almost hear Camille smiling from miles away.
She had created the evidence.
Then she had positioned herself as the solution.
Evelyn understood too.
She wrote something on her pad and pushed it toward me.
DO NOT REACT.
Rebecca cleared her throat.
“The report indicates your mother has repeatedly had to intervene because of your absences.”
“That is inaccurate.”
“We can discuss that this afternoon.”
“When?”
“Three.”
“I’ll be there.”
The call ended.
Celeste looked devastated.
“She actually reported you.”
“No.”
I stared at the dark phone screen.
“She prepared to report me.”
“There’s a difference.”
Marcus frowned.
“How?”
“Last night forced her to move sooner than she wanted.”
My phone vibrated again.
This time the message came from Camille.
Only one sentence.
YOU SHOULD HAVE APOLOGIZED AT THE WEDDING.
May you like
Then a second message arrived.
NOW LET’S SEE WHO NOELLE CALLS FAMILY WHEN A JUDGE DECIDES.
