I lay there staring at the doorway.
No tears came at first.
My mind simply refused to accept what had happened.
Finally, I looked at Hannah.
“What did I do?”
Her eyes filled with sympathy.
“You haven’t done anything wrong by waking up, Valeria.”
But that wasn’t an answer.
An hour later, Detective Ethan Cole entered my room.
He was tall, with dark hair, a carefully trimmed beard, and the exhausted expression of someone who had been working on the same case for too many sleepless nights.
He introduced himself and pulled a chair beside my bed.
“Valeria, I’m glad you’re awake.”
“Do you know why my mother hates me?”
His face tightened.
“I know what your father told her.”
“What did he say?”
“That you accused him of having an affair. That you threatened to publicly humiliate him unless he gave you money.”
I stared at him.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“He also claims you arrived at the house angry and caused a confrontation.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
“I believe you.”
Something in his voice made me study him.
“Why?”
He reached into his briefcase.
Then he removed a transparent evidence bag.
Inside was a black smartphone.
My smartphone.
The screen was badly shattered.
“We found this underneath you in your parents’ garage,” he explained.
My stomach tightened.
“Why was it there?”
“That’s one of the things we’re trying to determine.”
He held it closer.
“We also recovered a partial notification from a video file you were attempting to send.”
I stared at the broken screen.
“What notification?”
He read it aloud.
“If something happens to me, look at this.”
The words seemed to echo inside my skull.
Something stirred at the edge of my memory.
A parking lot.
A flickering red sign.
A familiar black Mercedes.
I closed my eyes.
For one terrible second, I heard my father’s voice.
Then the memory vanished.
“Valeria?”
I opened my eyes.
“I think I saw him.”
“Your father?”
I nodded.
“With someone.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“Where?”
My breathing quickened.
“I don’t know.”
“Take your time.”
I squeezed my eyes shut again.
A motel.
A hallway.
A woman laughing.
És apám fordult felém olyan arccal, amit még sosem láttam.
Hirtelen egy szó szökött ki az ajkaimból.
“Riverton.”
Ethan megdermedt.
“Mit mondtál?”
“Riverton Motel.”
Hosszú pillanatig bámult rám.
Aztán lassan becsukta a jegyzetfüzetét.
“Valeria,” mondta óvatosan, “senkinek sem mondtak el azt a motelt.”
A szívem hevesen vert.
“Miért?”
“Mert két nappal a támadásod előtt valaki bejelentkezett a 214-es szobába az apád üzleti hitelkártyájával.”
Megállt.
“És az a nő, aki bejelentkezett vele, eltűnt azon az éjszakán, amikor téged találtak.”
