Chapter 8 - Lake MercerPolice found Rebecca’s car in 2006.
They never found Rebecca.
Twenty years later, divers entered Lake Mercer.
I watched nothing live.
Detective Morales insisted that I stop following every development minute by minute.
“You’re recovering from sepsis and major surgery.”
“I can recover and obsess simultaneously.”
“You’re proving my point.”
Still, by evening, I knew there had been a discovery.
Morales entered my room carrying no folder.
That was how I knew it was serious.
She sat down.
“Divers found human remains.”
My stomach dropped.
“Rebecca?”
“We don’t know yet.”
The remains had been inside a submerged vehicle approximately forty yards from the old Vale property.
Not Rebecca’s car.
An older pickup truck registered in 2006 to Meridian Recovery Services.
Charles Wynn’s company.
A vehicle no one had reported missing.
Inside were human remains and several deteriorated personal items.
One included a small silver locket.
Rebecca’s sister identified it from photographs.
DNA would take time.
But everyone understood what the discovery likely meant.
Harrison Vale held a press conference the following morning.
I watched from my hospital room.
He stood before cameras outside his attorney’s office.
He expressed shock.
Grief.
Concern.
He said his family had prayed for Rebecca for twenty years.
My father threw a napkin at the television.
“He’s good.”
“He was a judge.”
“No. He’s an actor.”
Nathan’s attorney immediately issued a statement saying Nathan had no knowledge of any vehicle in the lake.
Daniel remained in custody.
Charles Wynn hired three attorneys.
The investigation expanded.
Then something strange happened.
Nathan asked to speak with me.
Through his lawyer.
I laughed when Detective Morales told me.
“Absolutely not.”
“He says he has information about Rebecca.”
“Then he can tell you.”
“He refuses.”
“That sounds like a him problem.”
Morales almost smiled.
“He says he’ll only speak if you’re present.”
“No.”
I meant it.
For several hours.
Then doubt started scratching at me.
What if he knew where Rebecca had been killed?
What if he could prove Harrison’s role?
What if refusing meant someone else remained protected?
Anne was against it unless I truly wanted it.
My father was against it under any circumstances.
Agent Shaw thought it might produce information.
Morales said the choice belonged to me.
Choice.
A real one this time.
That mattered.
I agreed under strict conditions.
Video recording.
Detectives present.
No physical contact.
Nathan restrained.
The meeting happened in a county interview room after I was discharged from St. Catherine’s two weeks later.
My arm was in a medical brace.
I walked in without help.
Nathan was seated behind a table.
Orange jail uniform.
Wrists cuffed.
For six years, I had never seen him look small.
Now he did.
His eyes went immediately to my arm.
“Em.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Pain crossed his face.
I felt nothing.
Or I wanted to feel nothing.
“You look better.”
I sat.
“What happened to Rebecca?”
Nathan looked toward the camera.
“I need something first.”
I laughed.
“You’re negotiating with the wrong person.”
“Emily.”
“You almost killed me.”
“I never meant—”
“Finish that sentence carefully.”
He stopped.
For a moment, I saw the old Nathan.
The husband who could calculate exactly which emotion would work.
Regret.
Tenderness.
Confusion.
Then tears.
“You think I wanted this?”
I stared.
“My arm rotted inside a cast you put on me.”
“I panicked.”
“For five weeks?”
His face tightened.
“I was trying to protect us.”
“There is no us.”
That landed.
Good.
Nathan looked down.
“Rebecca threatened my father.”
“She was leaving you.”
“She was taking documents.”
“So was I.”
He looked up sharply.
The parallel frightened him too.
“What happened to her?”
“I didn’t kill Rebecca.”
“Did you hurt her?”
Silence.
“Nathan.”
“Yes.”
The room seemed to become colder.
“What did you do?”
“We fought.”
“How?”
“She was packing.”
Of course.
“She said she was going to police. She had records showing Dad had been moving money through Meridian.”
“What did you do?”
“I grabbed her.”
His voice became distant.
“She fell.”
“Where?”
“At the lake house.”
My stomach turned.
“Was she alive?”
“Yes.”
“After she fell?”
“Yes.”
That distinction mattered.
“What happened next?”
Nathan’s breathing quickened.
“I called my father.”
Not an ambulance.
His father.
“What did Harrison do?”
“He came with Charles.”
“What happened to Rebecca?”
Nathan closed his eyes.
“She was unconscious.”
“But alive.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Dad told me to go home.”
My hands went cold.
“You left her?”
“I was twenty-three.”
“You were an adult.”
“I was scared.”
“So was she.”
He flinched.
“What did Harrison do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
“I swear.”
“Then why was her body in a Meridian truck?”
Nathan looked toward Morales.
“They found her?”
No one answered.
His expression revealed something important.
He genuinely had not known.
Or he was an extraordinary actor.
With Nathan, both remained possible.
“When did you last see Rebecca?”
“That night.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“What was her injury?”
“She hit her head.”
“Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”
“My father said he would handle it.”
That sentence explained Nathan’s entire life.
Harrison would handle it.
Bad grades.
Arrests.
Money.
Rebecca.
Me.
A father who never taught his sons consequences had raised men who believed consequences belonged to other people.
“Did Harrison know you hurt me?”
Nathan’s eyes moved toward my brace.
“Yes.”
My pulse rose.
“When?”
“The night it happened.”
“What did he say?”
“He said we needed time.”
“Time for what?”
“To find what you copied.”
My father had been right.
They let my arm deteriorate because they were searching.
Nathan continued.
“Dad brought someone who knew how to cast fractures.”
“Who?”
“A former medic.”
“Name.”
“I don’t know his real name.”
Morales interrupted.
“We’ll return to that.”
I stared at Nathan.
“So Harrison knew I needed a hospital.”
“Yes.”
“And told you not to take me.”
Nathan’s voice dropped.
“Yes.”
My eyes filled with tears despite everything.
Not because the answer surprised me.
Because some tiny part of me had still been searching for a softer truth.
There wasn’t one.
“Why did you finally call?”
“I didn’t.”
I froze.
“What?”
“I didn’t call the ambulance.”
Mrs. Alvarez.
I knew that.
“But you let them take me.”
“I tried to stop them.”
The memory returned.
Nathan arguing with paramedics.
Insisting I only needed rest.
My neighbor standing in our entryway saying, “She can’t even stand.”
Nathan had not saved me.
A woman across the street had.
I pushed my chair back.
“We’re done.”
“Emily, wait.”
I stood.
“Dad told Daniel to go to the hospital.”
I stopped.
Detective Morales leaned forward.
“Why?”
Nathan looked terrified.
“To make sure you didn’t remember where the files were.”
The syringe.
Midazolam.
“What was Daniel supposed to do?”
“He said just keep you confused.”
“By drugging me again?”
Nathan said nothing.
I turned toward the door.
Then he spoke one final time.
“My father is going to say I did everything.”
I looked over my shoulder.
“Maybe you did enough.”
Nathan’s face collapsed.
“He’ll destroy me.”
For the first time in years, I smiled at him.
“That sounds like a family problem.”
I left.
Three days later, DNA confirmed the remains in Lake Mercer belonged to Rebecca Lynn Vale.
The medical examiner found an old fracture near her wrist.
A healed fracture.
The same arm Nathan had injured in me.
But Rebecca had another injury.
A skull fracture that investigators believed occurred around the time of death.
Nathan claimed she fell.
The evidence could support that.
Or not.
Then forensic technicians recovered something from the truck’s corroded glove compartment.
An audio cassette.
Damaged.
Waterlogged.
Almost destroyed.
On it was a handwritten label:
H.V. — 10/14/06
May you like
Harrison Vale.
The date Rebecca disappeared.
