When His….

Ruth gave a sad nod. “I guessed that later.”

Detective Ruiz asked, “Did you ever directly observe physical punishment?”

Ruth hesitated once, then said, “Not with my own eyes. But I heard things.”

“What things?”

“Emma crying in the upstairs sitting room. Vanessa saying, ‘Stand up straight. Again.’ The sound of something hitting the floor. Once I heard Vanessa tell her, ‘If your father cared that much, he’d be here.’”

The room went completely still.

Harrison looked away.

Detective Ruiz let the silence sit for a moment before asking, “Why didn’t you report it?”

Ruth’s face tightened. “Because I was wrong once before.”

Neither of them spoke.

“When my sister’s boy was small,” Ruth said quietly, “she had a boyfriend with a temper. I thought it was none of my business until one night he shoved that boy so hard he broke his arm. After that I promised myself I would never look away again. But with rich people…” She glanced at Harrison, not unkindly, but honestly. “Rich people know how to make you doubt yourself. They say the child is sensitive. They say it’s private. They say you misread the room. I kept telling myself I needed proof, not worry. And by the time I had proof, I was out of the house.”

Harrison couldn’t defend his class. He couldn’t defend himself.

Because she was right.

A little later, Marcus Bell arrived from the house with a hard drive under his arm and a grim expression on his face.

“I pulled backup footage,” he said. “Most interior cameras in the family wing were disabled three months ago under Mrs. Cole’s authorization. She claimed she wanted privacy.”

“Did you tell me?” Harrison asked.

Marcus hesitated.

“You signed off by email, sir.”

Of course he had.

Of course he had signed something in between flights and forgotten it by dinner.