“I’ve thought about this day a lot.”
“Then you can start by telling me what Daniel said when he called you from the hospital.”
His hands wrapped around the mug.
He didn’t look up.
“He said there’d been an accident.
He said Chloe was gone.
He said Ava had been driving.”
“And you knew that wasn’t true.”
A long pause.
“I knew he’d been drinking when I left the house.
I knew he was in no state to drive.” His voice was rough.
“I didn’t know he’d gotten in the car.”
“But when he told you Ava had been driving—”
“I knew.” The words came out flat and quiet.
“I knew it wasn’t right.
But he was my brother.
And Chloe was already gone.
And I told myself that charging him wouldn’t bring her back.”
Ava made a sound beside me.
Not a word.
Just a breath, sharp and short.
Marcus finally looked at her.
“I am sorry, Ava.
What happened to you — what you had to carry — that was wrong.
I knew it was wrong.”
“Sorry doesn’t give me back five years,” Ava said.
He didn’t argue with that.
“Marcus.” I leaned forward.
“I need you to make a statement.
To the police.
Everything Daniel told you that night.”
His jaw tightened.
“Ellen—”
“He let a sixteen-year-old girl take the blame for something he did.
He watched me grieve for five years.
He stood at our daughter’s grave.” My voice stayed level.
I needed it to stay level.
“He is still in my house.”
Marcus looked at the table for a long moment.
“If I do this,” he said slowly, “it ends everything.
My family—”
“Your family ended the night he made that phone call,” I said.
“You’ve just been pretending otherwise.”
The kitchen was very quiet.
Then Marcus stood up and walked to the counter.
He opened a drawer and removed a small envelope.
He set it in front of me.
“I kept a record,” he said.
“The date and time he called.
What he said, word for word.
