Chapter 1 - THE HUNDREDTH CALL
The hundredth call came at 8:11 p.m.
This time, I answered.
Grant did not say hello.
“What the hell did you do to my cards?”
His voice came through over wind, music, and someone laughing in the background.
Not one word about Lily.
Not one question about why I had called him.
I looked through the ICU glass at our daughter.
“Where are you?”
“You know where I am.”
“Yes. I do.”
There was a pause.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I saw the pictures.”
The music on his end suddenly disappeared.
“Evelyn—”
“Who is she?”
“What?”
“The blonde woman wearing your shirt on my yacht.”
His breathing changed.
“Jessica is a friend.”
“A friend.”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
I almost laughed.
My twelve-year-old daughter had nearly stopped breathing while my husband posed barefoot with another woman and champagne.
I no longer cared what anything “looked like.”
“Lily is in intensive care.”
Silence.
Real silence.
Then:
“What?”
“She had an anaphylactic reaction this afternoon.”
“Oh my God.”
His voice cracked.
For half a second, I heard Lily’s father instead of my husband.
“When?”
“Hours ago.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
I stared at the phone.
“Rosa called you six times.”
“I didn’t get—”
“I called twice.”
“I had no signal.”
“You posted photographs.”
Silence.
Grant recovered quickly.
“I’m coming back.”
“Yes.”
“Unlock the cards.”
“No.”
“Evelyn, the marina won’t release fuel.”
“Then find another way home.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“No. Ridiculous is spending twenty-eight thousand dollars in one afternoon while your daughter calls the housekeeper because she can’t breathe.”
He lowered his voice.
“I told Lily I had a business obligation.”
“You told Rosa you were taking Lily to lunch.”
Another silence.
There it was.
Two lies.
One afternoon.
“Please unlock one card.”
“No.”
“How am I supposed to get back?”
“You’re a forty-two-year-old man on a yacht surrounded by friends. Solve it.”
I ended the call.
Ten minutes later, Rosa arrived at the hospital carrying Lily’s backpack.
She looked exhausted.
“I found something in the kitchen,” she said.
“What?”
She opened the backpack.
Inside was Lily’s prescribed emergency medication.
Still sealed.
My stomach dropped.
“Why wasn’t this with her?”
Rosa shook her head.
“I don’t know. Miss Lily always carries it.”
I knew that too.
Lily had a severe cashew allergy. Her emergency medication stayed in her backpack every day.
Then Rosa handed me Lily’s phone.
“There’s a message you need to hear.”
It was a voice memo Lily had accidentally recorded.
Grant’s voice came first.
“I said leave it here. You’re not carrying that ugly medical bag to lunch.”
Then Lily:
“Dad, Mom says I always have to bring it.”
Grant sounded irritated.
“Your mother worries about everything.”
My hands began shaking.
Then another voice entered the recording.
A woman.
Jessica.
“Come on, Grant. We’re going to miss the boat.”
The recording ended.
I stared at Rosa.
Grant had not merely disappeared while Lily became sick.
He had taken her medication away before leaving her.
But there was something even worse.
Rosa whispered:
“Mrs. Mercer, Lily didn’t eat anything after Mr. Grant left.”
I looked at her.
“Then what caused the reaction?”
Rosa pulled a takeout container from a hospital belongings bag.
“I found this beside her.”
A restaurant label was stuck across the lid.
CASHEW CHICKEN.
The order receipt showed the purchaser.
GRANT MERCER.
May you like
And the timestamp was 11:06 a.m.
Twenty minutes before he left for the yacht.
