Chapter 9: Marcus
His mother's name was Patrice, and she called me on a Tuesday evening while I was helping Sophie with a puzzle.
"I've been thinking about this since the dinner," Patrice said.
"I haven't slept well.
Marcus hasn't either.
He keeps asking me if Sophie is okay."
"She's okay," I said.
"She's right here."
A small silence.
"He wants to talk to her," Patrice said.
"If that's all right."
I handed Sophie the phone and watched her face shift from puzzled to delighted.
"Marcus!
Did you know I got to ride in an ambulance?" A pause.
"It was actually kind of scary.
But the lady let me hold her flashlight." Another pause, longer.
"I know.
I know you didn't know.
It's okay." She listened.
"Okay.
Bye."
She handed the phone back.
"He said he's sorry," she told me, very seriously.
"He said he should have said something sooner."
I took the phone back.
"Patrice," I said.
"I know," she said.
"I know what you're going to ask."
"I have to ask it."
"I know." A long breath.
"He's ten.
I need to know how this works.
I need to know what it means for him."
"It means telling the truth about what he saw.
To an attorney, probably in a written statement.
Maybe to a judge in a private session — judges can speak with children privately, without either parent present, in a way that's much less formal than a courtroom."
"Would he have to see Evelyn?"
"Not if we can help it.
Carol — my attorney — would make sure of that."
Another long silence.
"She told him he didn't see anything," Patrice said.
"He was standing right there and she looked him in the eye and told him he didn't see what he saw.
He's been carrying that for two weeks."
"I know."
"He's a child.
She looked at a child and told him his own memory was wrong."
"I know, Patrice."
"All right." Her voice steadied.
"Tell me what to do."
Carol arranged a meeting with Patrice and Marcus the following week.
I was not present — Carol said it was cleaner that way, that Marcus should speak without feeling like he was performing for me.
Afterward, Carol called.
"He's clear," she said.
"Specific, consistent, and clear.
He described watching Evelyn open the jar, stir a small amount into the frosting bowl with a spoon, and then place the jar behind the tray when she heard someone coming.
He described the spoon.
He described which bowl.
He described what Evelyn said to him afterward."
"You didn't see anything," I said.
"Word for word.
He remembered it exactly." A pause.
"He also said Daniel was in the kitchen earlier.
He doesn't know if Daniel saw what Evelyn did with the frosting specifically, but he saw Daniel and Evelyn talking quietly near the counter before the dessert was brought out."
I sat with that.
"Carol.
Is this enough?"
"Combined with the video footage, the hospital records, the financial records, and Dr.
Yuen's testimony — yes.
I believe it's enough." She paused.
"But I want to give Daniel one opportunity before we go to the final hearing.
I want to contact his attorney and make clear what we have.
Sometimes, when a person sees the full picture laid out, they make a different choice."
"You think Daniel might cooperate."
"I think Daniel is a man who has been managed by his mother for his entire life and who may not fully understand what he has participated in.
I'm not excusing it.
But if he is willing to provide a statement about what he knew and when — about the camera, about the attorney, about the deed — it changes the shape of the case.
It also changes the shape of what happens to Evelyn."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing yet.
Let me make the call." A brief pause.
"How are you holding up?"
I looked across the room at Sophie, who had abandoned the puzzle and was now drawing at the coffee table, her tongue between her teeth, entirely absorbed.
"I'm all right," I said.
"Good.
Stay close to home this week.
I'll call you as soon as I hear back."
I set the phone down.
Sophie looked up from her drawing.
"Mommy, do you want to see what I made?"
I crossed the room and sat down on the floor beside her.
She had drawn four figures.
A tall woman with curly hair — me.
A small girl — her.
A dog, though we did not have a dog.
And a house with a very large sun above it.
"Who's the dog?" I asked.
She considered this.
May you like
"The dog we're going to get," she said simply, and went back to drawing.
I stayed on the floor beside her and did not say anything for a while.
