Chapter 19 - The Visitor’s Booth
The visiting room at the Bedford Hills Correctional Facility smelled of industrial bleach, burnt instant coffee, and damp wool. Daniel sat on one side of the scratched polycarbonate partition, the phone receiver clamped so hard against his ear that the plastic dug into his cartilage.
On the other side of the partition sat Vanessa Vance.
She had lost weight, but her posture remained aristocratically straight. The orange prison scrub looked absurd on her—like a costume she had chosen for a macabre theater production. Her dark hair was neatly brushed back, and her eyes, clear and unnervingly bright, held no remorse, no shame, and no fear.
When she picked up her receiver, she didn't greet him. She simply smiled—that thin, symmetrical smile that had once convinced Daniel she was the most capable, maternal woman in the world after Rachel had disappeared.
"You look tired, Daniel," she said, her voice smooth through the crackling intercom line. "The new house must have poor insulation. Or perhaps Lily is having trouble sleeping?"
"What did you build under the old house, Vanessa?" Daniel didn't waste a second. His knuckles were bone-white where he gripped the desk. "Who was down there?"
Vanessa’s smile widened by a fraction of a millimeter. "Did you like the photograph? Arthur was very thorough with his contingency trusts. He was the only lawyer in the county who understood that some secrets are too valuable to be left to the justice system."
"The police are pulling the permits right now," Daniel lied, leaning forward until his forehead almost touched the glass. "They're bringing ground-penetrating radar to the property line. Whatever you buried, whatever sick game you and Cole were running—it's over. Tell me what Lily meant. Who is the sister?"
Vanessa let out a low, musical laugh that made the guard standing by the door glance over with mild irritation.
"Poor, simple Daniel," she sighed. "You spent five years thinking you were the master of your little domain. An executive at a software firm. A rational man. You never asked why Rachel’s family vanished from her life the moment she married you. You never asked why her father’s trust fund was sealed by an ironclad NDA before Lily was even conceived."
Daniel felt the floor beneath him tilt. "Rachel cut ties with her father because he was abusive. She told me everything."
"Rachel told you what she needed you to believe so you wouldn't run," Vanessa said, her voice dropping into a razor-edged whisper. "Marcus Vance isn't my father, Daniel. He was Rachel’s step-father. And before you came along with your middle-class sensibilities and your suburban dreams, Rachel had a life. A life that came with a price tag you couldn't afford."
Daniel’s breathing grew ragged. "You're lying. You're trying to destroy what she has left."
"Go ask her about the clinic in Zurich," Vanessa whispered, leaning against the glass, her eyes boring into his with terrifying certainty. "Ask her what happened to the twin. The one they told her was stillborn. Then take that pretty brass key and go back to the colonial. Check the root cellar behind the old stables. If the seal isn't broken yet, you might still find the records before my father’s people burn them."
The phone clicked dead in Daniel’s hand as the guard stepped forward, signaling that the ten minutes were up. Vanessa stood, smoothed the wrinkles from her orange smock, and mouthed three words through the reinforced glass before turning away:
May you like
*Look at Lily.*
***
