Chapter 17 - REBECCA’S LAST PERFORMANCERebecca testified three days later.
Not in court.
Not yet.
In a secure conference room at the attorney general’s office, with cameras recording, attorneys present, and a prosecutor named Dana Bell asking questions so precise they left no room for beauty.
Rebecca arrived wearing a beige sweater, her hair tied back, face clean of makeup. She looked fragile in the way expensive glass looks fragile: designed to make people careful around it.
I watched from behind one-way glass with Julian.
Emily was not there.
She was with Caroline, making pancakes shaped like animals and pretending not to ask every five minutes when I would come back.
Good.
Let the adults sit in the poison for once.
Rebecca began softly.
She described growing up under Preston Shaw: discipline disguised as love, obedience rewarded as loyalty, humiliation used as education. She described Victor Harland visiting their home when she was a teenager, bringing gifts and speaking to Preston behind closed doors. She described learning early that powerful men did not ask for permission. They created circumstances.
Dana Bell let her talk.
Then she asked, “When did you first target Adam Whitaker?”
Rebecca flinched.
“I didn’t target him.”
Dana looked down at her notes.
“Ms. Shaw, this agreement depends on truthful cooperation.”
Rebecca’s mouth tightened.
Behind the glass, Julian whispered, “There she is.”
Rebecca inhaled.
“I first noticed him at a foundation gala four years before Hannah died.”
My stomach turned.
Four years.
Not eight months.
Four years.
“He danced with his wife,” Rebecca said. “He looked at her like no one else existed.”
Her voice changed.
Bitter.
“I wanted someone to look at me that way.”
Dana asked, “Did you begin attending Whitaker Foundation events after that?”
“Yes.”
“Did you arrange to volunteer near Hannah?”
“Yes.”
“Did your father encourage this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Hannah had access. People trusted her.”
“Did you befriend Hannah sincerely?”
Rebecca’s eyes filled.
“I tried to.”
“No,” Dana said calmly. “Did you?”
Rebecca looked down.
“No.”
She admitted the park incidents. The blocked calls. The anonymous letters Hannah had received. She admitted entering our home twice before Hannah died using a copied key from a foundation coatroom. She admitted photographing documents on Hannah’s desk.
Each confession landed inside me like a stone dropped into water with no bottom.
Then Dana asked about Lake Road.
Rebecca’s hands began shaking.
She said Preston told her Hannah planned to expose everything. He told Rebecca to intercept her, calm her down, retrieve the files. He told her if Hannah ruined him, Rebecca’s life would collapse too.
Rebecca followed Hannah.
She called her.
She flashed her lights.
She screamed.
Then Cole Mercer’s SUV appeared.
“Did you know he would force her off the road?” Dana asked.
Rebecca cried silently.
“No.”
“Did you stop?”
“Yes.”
“Did you call emergency services?”
Rebecca’s face crumpled.
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
That was the answer that mattered.
Not whether she expected the impact.
Not whether she planned the exact moment.
Hannah had been alive.
Rebecca had stopped.
And she had not called for help.
“Why not?” Dana asked.
Rebecca covered her face.
“Victor was there.”
The room went still.
Even Dana paused.
Rebecca lowered her hands.
“He arrived maybe two minutes after. I don’t know from where. He walked to Hannah’s car. Cole was there. I was crying. I said we had to call someone.”
“And what did Victor say?”
Rebecca swallowed.
“He said, ‘Someone will find her when it is time.’”
My hand hit the glass before I knew I moved.
Julian grabbed my wrist.
On the other side, Rebecca jumped as if she had heard me.
Dana continued.
“What did Victor do next?”
“He took Hannah’s phone. Cole searched the car. They couldn’t find the copies. Victor told me to go home and never mention being there.”
“Did you?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Later that night, did Victor come to Adam Whitaker’s house?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Emily had seen me leave. Victor wanted to scare her.”
“She was three years old.”
Rebecca whispered, “I know.”
Dana’s voice hardened.
“Do you?”
Rebecca began sobbing.
I felt nothing.
That surprised me.
I had expected rage, maybe grief, maybe some terrible leftover tenderness for the woman I had almost married.
Instead, I felt empty clarity.
Rebecca was not a mystery anymore.
She was a person who had chosen herself at every moral crossing until the road behind her was paved with wreckage.
The interview lasted six hours.
By the end, Rebecca had named accounts, law firms, shell companies, private contractors, and the judge who signed sealed orders. She gave enough to widen the investigation beyond Hannah.
But she also tried one last performance.
When Dana ended questioning, Rebecca asked to speak directly to me.
Dana looked toward the glass.
Julian shook his head.
I surprised us both.
“Yes,” I said.
Five minutes later, I sat across from Rebecca again.
No private room.
No closed door.
Two cameras, three attorneys, one investigator.
Rebecca looked smaller than before.
“Adam,” she said.
I waited.
“I know you think I never loved Emily.”
My hands tightened beneath the table.
Rebecca’s eyes filled.
“But there were moments I did. When she laughed. When she fell asleep during movies. When she brought me a dandelion and said it was for the table. I wanted to love her.”
“You wanted her to stop being Hannah’s daughter.”
She flinched.
“I wanted a chance.”
“You had one.”
Her tears spilled.
“No. I had her ghost between us.”
I leaned forward.
“Hannah was not between us. Your envy was.”
Rebecca’s lips trembled.
“I can’t undo it.”
“No.”
“If I testify, Victor will destroy me.”
“Then you finally know how Emily felt behind the chapel.”
That struck her harder than anger would have.
She looked away.
I stood.
“Adam, please.”
I paused at the door.
She whispered, “Will you tell Emily I’m sorry?”
I turned back.
“No.”
Rebecca broke.
I let her.
May you like
“She does not need your apology,” I said. “She needs your absence.”
Then I left her there, crying under fluorescent lights, with no veil left to hide behind.
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