Chapter 9: Four O'Clock
Rachel didn't go home right away.
Diane stayed with her, and they sat in a small café two streets away while Emma drank hot chocolate and drew patterns on a paper napkin with a pen she'd found in her mother's bag.
At 4:17, Rachel's phone buzzed.
It was a number she didn't recognize.
She answered it.
"Ms.
Payne?
This is Detective Reeves.
I wanted to update you personally."
She sat up straighter.
"Yes.
Go ahead."
"Lauren Marsh-Colton came in with her attorney as scheduled.
She gave a statement." A pause.
"She placed the majority of the financial scheme on her cousin Pauline.
She admitted to the recording — the threat made to your daughter — and characterized it as a moment of poor judgment made under stress."
"Poor judgment," Rachel said.
"Her words, not mine." His voice was neutral.
"Based on the statement, the emails, and the bank documentation, we've issued a warrant for Pauline Marsh.
She used a credit card in another state two days ago, so we have a location to work from." Another pause.
"Lauren Marsh-Colton has been charged with one count of making a criminal threat — related to the recording.
Her attorney is already filing for a diversion program given no prior record."
Rachel was quiet for a moment.
"What does that mean?
Diversion?"
"It means if she completes certain conditions — counseling, community service, no further incidents — the charge may not result in a conviction." He paused.
"I want to be honest with you about that."
"I appreciate it," Rachel said.
"The financial fraud charges will follow Pauline primarily.
If the investigation finds Lauren had direct knowledge and participation beyond what she's admitted, that could change.
But that takes time."
"All right," Rachel said.
"Ms.
Payne — the recording your daughter made.
The threat on that recording is what allowed us to move today.
Without it, this would have taken months longer, if it happened at all." He paused.
"Your daughter did something that most adults wouldn't have known to do."
Rachel looked at Emma, who was still drawing on her napkin, tongue pressed lightly to her lip in concentration.
"She knew," Rachel said.
"She's known something was wrong for a long time.
She just needed a way to show me."
"She found one," Reeves said.
After she hung up, Rachel set the phone down and sat for a moment.
"Well?" Diane said.
Rachel told her.
Diane listened without interrupting.
When Rachel finished, Diane wrapped both hands around her coffee cup.
"It's not everything," Diane said.
"No," Rachel agreed.
"But it's something."
"Pauline will be found."
"Probably."
"And Lauren—" Diane stopped.
She looked out the window.
"Lauren will find a way to manage it.
She always does.
That's who she is."
"Maybe," Rachel said.
"But she doesn't have the emails anymore.
She doesn't have the account.
She doesn't have the school record." Rachel paused.
"And she doesn't have whatever she thought she was building toward with Emma."
Diane nodded slowly.
Emma looked up from her napkin.
"Are we safe now?"
Rachel reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind Emma's ear.
"Yes," she said.
"We're safe."
Emma looked at her for a moment, checking — the way children check, not with words but with something quieter, something they feel in their chest.
Then she went back to her drawing.
Diane reached into her bag and placed a card on the table.
"My number," she said.
"If anything else comes up.
If you need a witness, a statement, anything."
Rachel picked up the card.
"And if you need a reference," she said, "for a job — a real one — call me.
I don't have much.
But I know people who are decent."
Diane looked at her.
"You don't owe me anything."
"I know," Rachel said.
"That's not why I'm offering."
They sat with that for a moment.
Outside the café window, the afternoon had gone gray and soft, the kind of light that makes everything look a little quieter than it is.
People moved past on the pavement, unhurried, unaware.
Emma slid her napkin across the table to Diane.
She had drawn three figures.
A tall woman, a shorter woman, and a small girl in the middle.
The small girl had something on her wrist — a circle with lines coming off it, like a sun, or a watch.
"That's us," Emma said.
Diane looked at the drawing for a long time.
May you like
"Yes," she said finally.
"It is."
