Chapter 6 - What Emily Had Been Fighting With Camille About
Caroline Reeves had been Emily’s closest friend since college.
I had barely spoken with her after the funeral.
Not because we disliked each other.
Because grief creates strange distances.
I called.
She said:
“I wondered when someone would.”
That sentence chilled me.
“What do you know?”
“Not enough.”
Then she told me about Emily and Camille.
For three months before the crash, they had been fighting over Mason.
He wanted a senior role inside Rhodes Development, the family real-estate company Camille chaired.
Emily thought he was not ready.
Not because she disliked him.
She loved him.
That mattered.
Emily had been sixteen when Mason was born. She treated him less like a nephew than a younger brother.
That was why the children called him Uncle Mason.
She also knew his worst habits.
The speeding.
The impulsive spending.
The way Camille fixed problems before he experienced them.
After his second major driving incident, Emily told Caroline:
“Camille thinks consequences are things poor families have.”
That sounded exactly like my wife.
Caroline said Emily was especially upset after Mason drove despite having been drinking at a summer party.
No crash.
No arrest.
A friend took his keys later.
Camille’s response was apparently:
“He got home.”
Emily responded:
“That isn’t the standard.”
The week before the fatal crash, Emily told Caroline she planned to confront Mason at the foundation dinner.
About what?
His driving.
And something else.
Camille had asked Emily to support Mason’s promotion within Rhodes Development.
Emily refused.
She held a small inherited voting interest in the family company.
Not enough to control it.
Enough that Camille wanted unity.
Emily said Mason needed another year.
Camille considered that betrayal.
Suddenly the night of the crash had more pressure beneath it than I ever knew.
I had assumed Emily attended a charity dinner.
She was walking into a family fight.
Then Caleb remembered something during therapy.
Not from crash night.
From a visit to Camille’s house nearly a year later.
He had heard Camille and Mason arguing in the library.
Mason said:
“You told me she’d calm down.”
Camille replied:
“You were supposed to get her home.”
Then:
“She grabbed the wheel.”
Caleb did not understand what they meant.
Camille saw him in the doorway.
After that, the practice sessions became stricter.
That was why he knew.
Not because he witnessed the crash.
Because he overheard the people who survived it.
Dr. Foster made clear that children’s recollections of overheard adult conversations need caution.
We treated it as a lead.
Not proof.
Still, the phrase mattered.
She grabbed the wheel.
If true, Mason had been driving.
Emily had been passenger.
And something happened inside the car immediately before it left the road.
I began imagining another version.
Maybe Emily tried to stop him.
Maybe he was speeding.
Maybe they were arguing.
Maybe she reached for the steering wheel.
For the first time since starting the investigation, I felt anger toward Emily.
Not fair anger.
Fear disguised as anger.
Why had she gotten into that car?
Why didn’t she call me?
Why didn’t she call a rideshare?
Why didn’t she let Mason destroy his own life without putting hers beside it?
Then I hated myself for asking the dead person to make the living person’s choices less horrifying.
Caroline said:
“Daniel, Emily always thought she could talk Mason down.”
That sounded true too.
“She loved him.”
“I know.”
“She also thought Camille made him worse.”
“What did Emily plan to do?”
“Convince him to step away from the company and get help.”
“For driving?”
“For everything.”
Everything turned out to include anxiety medication Mason had been mixing irresponsibly with alcohol.
Not an opioid scandal.
Not a secret drug empire.
A young man with bad judgment, wealth, and a mother who kept every consequence soft enough that he never had to change.
Emily wanted him in treatment.
May you like
Camille wanted him functional enough to inherit responsibility.
That was the family conflict waiting in the passenger seat.
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