The Camera at the Garage
Chapter 11 - The Camera at the Garage
The garage footage did not show a murder. It showed Lydia leaving a Manhattan office building carrying a canvas bag, walking toward her car, and stopping when a woman approached.
The woman was Celeste.
They argued for several minutes without audio. Celeste reached for the bag; Lydia pulled away. Then a man in a dark overcoat arrived and spoke to both of them. Lydia got into her car and drove away. The man followed in a separate vehicle.
The investigators identified him as Leonard Price, a consultant involved in the Mercer Street transaction. They interviewed him and obtained phone records. He initially claimed he'd been going in the same direction by coincidence. Later he acknowledged following Lydia at Celeste's request to learn where she was taking the documents.
He insisted he had not touched her car and had turned off the highway before the crash. That account was tested against available toll and location records, not accepted merely because he said it.
Adrian heard the news in Rebecca's office. He became so pale that Nina brought him water.
“I accused Lydia of being paranoid,” he whispered. “The last time we spoke, I told her she was imagining enemies.”
I sat beside him. “She was worried. That doesn't mean you caused what happened.”
He covered his face. “I should have listened.”
“Yes,” I said gently. “You should have.”
I didn't tell him grief should vanish. I only stayed until he was ready to stand.
The inquiry into the crash was reopened for review of the new information. That was not proof of deliberate harm, and the authorities warned everyone not to make claims beyond the evidence.
Celeste left New York for several weeks. Her lawyer said she needed privacy. Donors who had once competed for photographs with her began quietly removing pictures from their websites.
I found myself thinking about the moment she'd mocked Sophie: how completely certain she'd been that no one would challenge her. Perhaps losing her position frightened her more than the questions about Lydia.
At home, Sophie was practicing a new routine. She stopped when she saw the worry on my face.
“Are the bad people coming?” she asked.
I knelt. “The adults are working to keep you safe. You don't need to solve this.”
She wrapped both arms around me. “Can we still dance?”
May you like
“Of course.”
I turned on the kitchen radio. We danced between the table and the stove until both of us were laughing. I thought of Lydia and wished, painfully, that she'd been there to see it.
