Chapter 11
I had not called Olivia.
I had called Alexander.
Or at least, I thought I had.
My phone records were still in the device I had brought from Chicago. I opened them with numb fingers and scrolled back to the day Grace died.
There it was.
3:41 p.m.—Alexander.
3:47 p.m.—Alexander.
4:02 p.m.—Alexander.
4:18 p.m.—Alexander.
I remembered those calls.
The first time, he had answered while music played in the background. I had told him Grace was dead. He had gone silent, then said he would come.
The second time, he had called me back.
But there was another number beneath them.
3:36 p.m.—Olivia Carter.
I stared at it.
I had no memory of making that call.
My thumb hovered over the screen.
Then I remembered.
The hospital receptionist had asked whether there was anyone else she could contact. I had been sitting beside Grace’s bed, unable to think. Alexander had not answered my first call. His phone had gone to voicemail.
The receptionist had asked, “Is there a family member we should notify?”
I had said, “Call Olivia Carter.”
I had known she would be with him.
I had known she could reach him faster than I could.
After that, everything had blurred.
I must have called her.
I pressed my hand against my mouth.
Olivia had answered.
She had heard my voice.
She had known.
And she had said nothing.
The anger came slowly this time, not like fire but like a door opening onto a room I had never seen before.
I called Alexander.
He answered almost immediately.
“Emily?”
“Did Olivia tell you I called her from the hospital?”
There was a long pause.
“No.”
“She said I did.”
“I don’t remember her mentioning it.”
“Did you ask her?”
“Ask her what?”
“Whether she spoke to me that afternoon.”
His breath shifted. “Why would she have?”
“Because I called her.”
“Emily, I—”
“Did she tell you?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did you know she answered?”
“No.”
“How could you not know?”
“I was at the party. My phone was in my jacket. There were dozens of people there.”
“You spoke to me later.”
“I know.”
“You came to the hospital nearly an hour after I told you Grace was dead.”
“I was driving.”
“You were in the same building as Olivia.”
“I left as soon as I understood.”
“No,” I said quietly. “You left after she let you understand.”