Chapter 12: Moving Her Yellow Dress Out Of Range
I didn't sleep much after the intermediary talked. I sat at my desk until two in the morning with the lab report in its envelope, the video file backed up on two drives, and Elena's written statement folded next to the second glass. The house was quiet except for the AC kicking on. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Lucia's hand pointed at that crystal glass.
By six I knew what had to happen next. If the person who ordered this still thought I was compliant and drowsy, Lucia couldn't be in the house when they came for the signature.
I called my sister Carla. She picked up on the third ring.
"Marcus? It's early," she said. Her kitchen radio was on in the background.
"I need you to take Lucia for a couple days," I said. "No questions on the phone. Can you be here by eight?"
There was a pause. Carla had known me since we shared a bedroom on twin mattresses. She heard it in my voice.
"We'll be ready," she said. "I'll bring the car seat."
Lucia was already awake when I went to her room. She was sitting on her little bed in her pajamas, her long curly brown hair tangled from sleep, her yellow bow on the nightstand where Elena always set it. The mustard yellow dress with the puff sleeves and the big bow at the back was hanging on the closet door.
I knelt down so we were eye level.
"Hey, kiddo," I said.
She looked at me and rubbed her eye. "Are you tired again?"
"No," I said. "Not today. You're going to stay with Aunt Carla for a little while. At her apartment, okay? Like a sleepover."
She frowned a little. "Will you come?"
"Soon," I said. "I need you somewhere safe while I fix something at the house."
I helped her get dressed. She lifted her arms and I pulled the yellow dress over her head, smoothed the puff sleeves, tied the bow at the back the way she liked it. I fixed the large yellow bow in her hair and checked that it was straight. It was the same dress and bow from that morning in the office. I wanted Carla to see exactly what she'd been wearing when she warned me. That detail mattered.
Carla arrived at 7:46. She came in through the side door with a tote bag and her husband Mike behind her carrying the car seat. She took one look at the office desk — the two glasses now both bagged and labeled on a high shelf — and didn't ask a thing.
I pulled her into the hallway while Mike helped Lucia put on her little white sneakers.
"I need you to write down exactly what she says," I told Carla quietly, and handed her a small notebook I'd started. "Word for word. Don't lead her. Just ask her what she told me about the water."
Carla nodded. Her hand was steady.
We sat at the kitchen table. I poured Lucia a glass of milk — a regular plastic cup, not crystal — and Carla knelt next to her.
"Lucia, honey, can you tell Aunt Carla what you told Mr. Marcus about the drink?" Carla asked softly.
Lucia looked at me, then at Carla. She pointed her little finger the same way she had in the office, calm and earnest.
"Sir, you're not tired, you're drugged," she said. Her voice was clear. "I smelled something strange."
Carla wrote it down, her pen moving slowly. She read it back. "Is that right, sweetie?"
Lucia nodded. "Who brought this drink? He said that after."
Carla dated the page and signed the bottom. She wrote the time, 8:04 a.m., and where we were. She had been a second-grade teacher for nine years. She knew how to document a child's words without twisting them.
"That's good," I said. My throat felt tight. "Thank you, Lucia."
I walked them to the driveway. The morning was bright and hot already, the kind of late August heat that made the sidewalk shimmer. I buckled Lucia into the car seat myself, double-checking the straps. The yellow bow looked huge against the gray fabric.
"Bring your dress back clean, okay?" I tried to smile.
Lucia reached out and touched my beard. "Don't drink the water," she whispered.
"I won't," I said. "I promise."
Carla squeezed my arm. "Call me when it's done. We're not going anywhere."
I watched their car turn onto the county road and disappear past the church parking lot. I stood there until the sound was gone.
Inside, my phone buzzed on the kitchen island. Blocked number, then a name. Derek Vance. My business partner for four years. The man who'd drawn up the power-of-attorney papers Elena had described, the man the intermediary had named.
I let it ring once before answering, keeping my voice slower than usual, a little flat.
"Hey," I said.
"Marcus, my man," Derek said. His voice was smooth, upbeat. "You sound rough. That fatigue still hanging around?"
"A little," I said. "Long night."
"Good thing we're fixing that. Look, I moved some things around. Let's do that signing tomorrow, ten a.m., your office. My notary can come to you so you don't have to drive. Just the business transfer and the medical authorization, five minutes and you're done. Then you can rest."
He said it like he was doing me a favor. Like he expected me to be too groggy to read.
I leaned against the counter and closed my eyes for a second. Ten a.m. He was committing.
"Yeah," I said, letting a pause hang. "Ten's good. Come here. I'll have the water ready."
He laughed. "Perfect. See you then, brother."
May you like
I hung up and immediately texted my lawyer and the county sheriff's deputy I'd been working with: Tomorrow 10am office signing. He's coming. Lucia is off-site safe.
The house was empty now except for me and the evidence. The crystal glasses were still there on the shelf, untouched. Lucia's room was quiet, her pajamas folded on the bed. For the first time since she'd pointed at that glass, I felt like I could breathe without watching the door.
