Chapter 5 - The Whiteboard
Three days later, I was discharged under the care of my elder sister, Rachel, who had flown in from Seattle the moment she received Detective Lin's call.
Rachel was thirty-five, an attorney who specialized in corporate compliance. She did not raise her voice. She did not cry. She moved through my apartment—our apartment, the one Marcus and I had rented two miles from his parents' house—with a cold, terrifying efficiency that made the building manager jump whenever she spoke.
"He came by twice yesterday," Rachel said, placing a glass of orange juice on the bedside table. "He brought two garbage bags full of your clothes and a box of baby supplies."
"Did you talk to him?" I asked, sitting up slowly with the help of my newly adjusted medical corset.
"I didn't open the door," Rachel replied, pulling a pair of yellow rubber gloves from her apron. "I called the precinct officer assigned to your protective order. Marcus was cited for violation of a temporary injunction and escorted off the property. His father was waiting in the truck across the street."
She picked up a black tablet from the vanity. "Your lawyer called. The bail hearing for Arthur and Evelyn is set for tomorrow morning. The prosecutor is pushing for high bail based on the flight risk and the severity of the charges."
"What charges?"
"Unlawful imprisonment in the second degree, child endangerment, and felony assault," Rachel said, her voice dropping into that flat, legal register. "Arthur is also being investigated for witness tampering because he tried to call Clara three times from the holding cell."
I looked down at my hands. The bruises on my wrists had faded from purple to a dull, greenish yellow, looking like dirty bracelets beneath my skin.
"Rachel," I said. "I need to see the house."
Rachel stopped. "No."
"I need my papers. My passport, my tax documents, the deed to my grandmother's land in Maine. Marcus kept them in the safe in his father's office."
"The police searched that room, Maya," Rachel said firmly. "They took what they needed for the investigation."
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"They didn't take my grandmother's letters," I said. "They're in the blue metal box under Arthur's desk. He won't give them to a process server. He considers everything inside that house to be estate property."
Rachel stared at me for a long moment, then reached for her phone. "I'm calling Detective Lin. If we go, we go with an escort, two officers, and a locksmith."
