Chapter 6 - The Woman at the Gate
The driver was sixty, frightened, and carrying an ordinary car-service assignment.
He showed Rocco the booking on his phone.
Pickup: Mia Hayes, accompanied by household representative.
Destination: a private address south of Boston.
“No parent listed?” Rocco asked.
“I assumed the representative was the parent.”
The man had never met Vivien.
Rocco copied the booking information with his permission and let him leave.
Lorenzo wanted answers that could stand up to scrutiny, not a terrified driver repeating whatever he thought would save him.
Nora called the preschool and the car service.
Elena called her sister.
By late afternoon, Mia was upstairs playing cards with Lorenzo’s mother.
The game had no rules anyone could identify.
His mother was winning anyway.
Downstairs, Vivien returned from a dress fitting carrying three shopping bags.
“Why was my car turned away?”
Lorenzo stood near the stairs.
“Which car?”
“The one I sent for Elena’s little girl. I arranged a playdate. Elena’s been exhausted.”
“With whom?”
“A friend.”
“What’s her name?”
Vivien glanced toward the kitchen.
“Why are you questioning me like this?”
“Because you arranged transportation for a three-year-old without her mother’s permission.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I was trying to help.”
“Don’t help that way again.”
Her face tightened.
Then she smiled.
“Of course.”
That evening, a woman approached the service gate on foot.
She wore restaurant shoes and held a folded pay stub.
Her name was Teresa Walsh.
She had worked in Lorenzo’s kitchen until Vivien dismissed her two months earlier.
“I heard you were asking questions,” she told Rocco.
“From whom?”
“The driver’s my brother-in-law.”
Rocco brought her to the study.
Teresa refused to sit.
“I don’t want money. I want my name cleared.”
“What happened?” Lorenzo asked.
“I saw her grab Elena’s arm. Told her to let go.”
“Vivien?”
Teresa nodded.
“Next morning, I was accused of stealing groceries.”
Elena stood in the doorway.
“Teresa?”
The older woman’s mouth trembled.
“I should’ve come back.”
“You needed your job.”
“I needed my spine.”
Nora gently interrupted.
“Would you put what you saw in a statement?”
“Yes.”
Teresa reached into her coat.
“I kept something else.”
It was a voicemail from Vivien.
May you like
Lorenzo listened to his fiancée’s polished voice fill the room.
“If you contact anyone in that house, your daughter loses her scholarship. Think carefully before you make another mistake.”
