Chapter 7 - Rita's Folder.
The video from Vance Development's lobby lasted fifty-three minutes.
Naomi watched it twice with Detective Cole and Malcolm's attorney before Sarah was well enough to see selected still images.
At 11:31 PM, Rita Lawson entered the building wearing a cream coat and carrying a red leather folder.
The camera angle captured the front clearly enough to show a white label.
MILLER - S.
At 11:34 PM, Victor met her in the lobby.
He kissed her.
Sarah looked away from the still image.
Naomi immediately closed the laptop halfway.
"You don't need to see more than the evidence requires."
"I can handle it."
"Handling it doesn't make it useful."
Sarah took a slow breath.
"Keep going."
The next still showed Gerald Mott arriving.
The three entered Victor's private office.
Forty minutes later, Gerald left first carrying no visible folder.
Rita left nine minutes later with the red folder tucked under her arm.
Victor remained inside until 1:07 AM.
"Do we know what's in the folder?" Sarah asked.
Cole shook his head.
"Not yet."
"Has Rita been interviewed?"
"We're trying to arrange it."
Naomi corrected him.
"Her lawyer is trying to arrange it."
Sarah looked surprised.
"She has a lawyer already?"
"She hired one this morning."
Evelyn, sitting near the hospital window, gave a quiet snort.
"People who have done nothing wrong hire lawyers too."
Naomi looked at her.
"Correct."
"I know."
Evelyn crossed her arms.
"I just don't like her."
Despite herself, Sarah smiled.
The smile vanished when Cole placed another printout on the tray.
"We also received smart-home access logs."
Sarah looked down.
Victor's account had logged into the battery controller at 7:56 PM.
The device identified was his personal iPhone.
The network connection originated from the hospital.
Sarah stared at the page.
"So it was him."
Cole remained careful.
"It was his device using his account from the hospital network."
"That's him."
"It's strong evidence."
"What change did he make?"
Cole pointed to the line.
"Maintenance mode at 7:58."
Another line.
"Charging threshold at 8:04."
Another.
"Thermal protection override at 8:06."
Sarah swallowed.
"He did all of that before he started calling me."
Cole nodded.
"Your first missed call from him was 8:49."
Sarah looked at Naomi.
The sequence mattered.
Victor altered the system.
Then he called her.
Then the fire began.
"Could those changes guarantee a fire?"
Cole shook his head.
"No."
"Could they create one?"
"Combined with the improper installation, yes."
Sarah's voice became quiet.
"Did Victor know the installation was improper?"
Cole did not answer directly.
"We found emails between Victor and Kessler Systems."
Sarah waited.
"The contractor warned that running the batteries at maximum charge with thermal safeguards disabled could damage the units."
Evelyn's face went pale.
"Did the email say fire?"
"One email mentioned overheating and thermal event risk."
Sarah felt sick.
"He knew."
Cole closed the folder.
"We are still establishing intent."
Sarah looked at him.
"What possible innocent reason would he have?"
"That's what we're asking."
The detective stood.
"Rest."
Sarah almost laughed at how often people had started telling her that.
After he left, Naomi remained.
"I need to separate two cases in your mind."
"Divorce and the fire."
"Exactly."
"I don't know how."
"You don't have to emotionally."
Naomi gathered the papers.
"Legally, I do."
Sarah nodded.
"What happens with the deed?"
"The handwriting examiner says the signature is almost certainly simulated."
"Meaning forged."
"Meaning we have expert support that you did not sign it."
Sarah looked at the ceiling.
"I keep thinking about the night before surgery."
"What happened?"
"Victor was unusually kind."
Naomi waited.
"He brought me tea."
Sarah's voice tightened.
"He told me I had always been the strongest person he knew."
Evelyn looked away.
Sarah continued.
"I thought he was scared I might change my mind about donating."
Naomi's expression hardened.
"Maybe he was."
"Now I wonder if he was checking whether I suspected anything."
"Maybe."
Sarah turned her head.
"You say that word a lot."
"It keeps clients out of trouble."
Sarah gave a tired half-smile.
That afternoon, Victor was discharged from the hospital.
A black sedan took him toward Brookline.
He had refused Malcolm's offer to arrange a hotel.
He told his driver to take him home.
Leonard called twice during the ride.
Victor ignored both calls.
He wanted to see the house himself.
He wanted the physical reality of the damage.
He wanted something he could blame on Sarah.
When the sedan turned onto Hawthorne Lane, Victor leaned forward.
Then he stopped breathing for a moment.
The house was almost unrecognizable.
The entire upper floor was burned open.
The front windows were boarded.
Yellow tape fluttered around the property.
A fire investigator's placard hung near the gate.
Victor stepped out slowly, still weak from surgery.
His driver moved to help him.
Victor waved him away.
Across the street, Teresa watched from her front window.
Victor stood at the curb for nearly a minute.
He had spent years introducing that address as proof of his success.
Now the house looked like a public correction.
His phone rang.
Rita.
He answered without looking away from the ruins.
"I'm here."
"At the house?"
"Yes."
"Do the police know you're there?"
Victor's jaw tightened.
"It's still my residence."
"Not your house."
The words landed cleanly.
Victor turned away from the driver.
"Who told you that?"
"Everyone, apparently."
Rita sounded angry, but beneath it was fear.
"Victor, police want to interview me."
"Then don't talk."
"My lawyer says I may have to."
"Your lawyer works for you."
"Exactly."
There was a pause.
"I need to ask you something."
Victor closed his eyes.
"What?"
"Did you change the battery settings that night?"
He opened his eyes again.
"Why are you asking me that?"
"Because Gerald called me."
Victor's face tightened.
"You spoke to Gerald?"
"He said police have logs."
"Gerald talks too much."
"Did you do it?"
Victor turned toward the burned house.
"I adjusted the system."
Rita went silent.
"Why?"
"I wanted to trigger a fault report."
"What does that mean?"
"The batteries were defective."
"So you pushed them harder?"
"I needed documentation for a warranty claim."
The explanation sounded worse aloud than it had in his head.
Rita's voice went very quiet.
"While Sarah was at the house?"
Victor did not answer.
"Victor."
"I thought she had left."
Rita inhaled sharply.
"You thought?"
"She wasn't answering me."
"That's not the same as knowing."
Victor's anger rose.
"Stop acting like I'm some kind of monster."
Rita was silent.
Then she said something he had never expected to hear from her.
"I'm not sure what you are anymore."
She ended the call.
Victor stood alone at the curb.
A car pulled up behind him.
Leonard Pike stepped out.
"I told you not to come here."
Victor did not turn.
"It's my home."
Leonard looked at the destroyed structure.
"Legally, that's becoming an ambitious sentence."
Victor finally faced him.
"What do you want?"
Leonard held up a sealed envelope.
"You've been served."
Victor stared at it.
"I know about the divorce."
"This isn't the divorce complaint."
Leonard's expression was grim.
"It's a preservation order concerning company records, personal devices, and smart-home data."
Victor took the envelope.
"They're treating me like a criminal."
Leonard met his eyes.
"Then stop giving them reasons to wonder."
At the hospital, Sarah finally opened the oncology envelope.
Evelyn sat beside her.
The letter did not contain a diagnosis.
It contained a recommendation for a needle biopsy of a small breast lesion identified during imaging.
The radiologist described it as suspicious enough to require prompt follow-up but small enough that early evaluation mattered.
Sarah read the page twice.
Then she folded it carefully.
"Monday," Evelyn said.
"Monday," Sarah agreed.
Her phone buzzed.
A new message from Naomi appeared.
RITA'S LAWYER CALLED.
SHE WANTS TO TALK.
And beneath it was one more line.
SHE SAYS THE RED FOLDER BELONGED TO VICTOR, NOT HER.
Victor's return to Hawthorne Lane drew more attention than he expected.
A freelance photographer recognized him stepping from the sedan and took several pictures before Leonard could move him away from the curb.
By evening, one image circulated online.
Victor stood in front of the blackened house, holding a cane, his face expressionless.
The caption described him as the husband of the property's owner.
Again, not owner.
Husband.
The distinction infuriated him.
At the hotel, he called the publication's editor and demanded a correction.
"Correction to what?" the editor asked.
"That was my marital home."
"The caption says that."
"It says my wife owned it."
"County records say she did."
Victor's voice hardened.
"I paid for renovations."
"Then that's a different fact."
The editor ended the call politely.
Victor threw the phone onto the bed.
For years, he had believed wealth meant the power to define reality for anyone standing near him.
Now clerks, editors, nurses, lawyers, and investigators kept returning him to documents.
Rita spent that same evening at Claire Benton's office.
Claire asked her to create a timeline beginning with the first day she met Victor.
Rita hated the exercise because dates stripped romance from the affair.
The first dinner had been two years and two months earlier.
Victor told her his marriage was over emotionally.
Three weeks later, he said Sarah refused divorce because she depended on him financially.
Two months later, he said lawyers were working on a separation.
Six months later, he said timing was difficult because of his kidney failure.
A year later, he said Sarah knew about Rita but preferred appearances.
None of those claims had ever come with a filed case, separate address, or conversation with Sarah.
Claire looked at the timeline.
"Did you ever ask to see divorce papers?"
Rita shook her head.
"Why not?"
"Because I was afraid of the answer."
Claire nodded.
"That may be the most useful sentence you've said today."
Rita looked at her.
"Useful for who?"
"For you."
Claire closed the notebook.
"People make worse legal decisions when they're still lying to themselves."
Rita looked toward the red folder on the table.
"What happens if I give them everything?"
"That depends on what you did."
"I entered the house."
"Yes."
"I took property."
"Yes."
"Victor told me to."
"That explains conduct."
Claire's voice remained firm.
"It does not automatically excuse it."
Rita nodded.
For the first time, she understood that becoming a witness did not transform her into a victim in every part of the story.
May you like
Some responsibility would remain hers.
That realization made her more willing to tell the truth, not less.
