Chapter 5: The Name She Changed
Daniel stared at the message.
Carol leaned over and read it.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
"Do you know that number?" she asked.
"No."
He typed back: *Who is this?*
Three dots appeared.
Then: *Someone who worked for Marcus Webb.
I've been watching this for a long time.
I need to meet you.
Not here.
Not by phone.*
Carol took a slow breath.
"It could be a trap.
Vanessa could be trying to find out how much you know."
"It could be," Daniel said.
"But Vanessa doesn't know about you yet.
She doesn't know what's on that drive." He looked at the message again.
"Someone who worked for Marcus Webb would know things we don't."
"Or things she wants us to think we don't."
He typed: *Tomorrow.
Public place.
You choose.*
The reply came in under a minute.
A coffee shop address, two towns over.
Ten in the morning.
Daniel pocketed his phone and looked at Carol.
"Can you be there?"
"I've been working toward this for four years," she said.
"I can be there."
---
He didn't sleep that night.
He lay in the spare room at Ruth's house — Sophie was in the next room, he could hear her breathing through the baby monitor Ruth still kept from when her own children were small — and he stared at the ceiling and tried to put the pieces in order.
Vanessa had come into his life eighteen months ago.
She had been warm, patient, funny.
She had been gentle with Sophie in the beginning, or what he had believed was gentle.
He had been a widower for two years by then and he had been so relieved to feel something again that he had not looked carefully enough at what he was feeling it toward.
He thought about the first time Sophie had gone quiet around Vanessa.
He had told himself it was an adjustment.
Children took time.
He thought about the morning Sophie had said her tummy hurt and hadn't wanted to go downstairs for breakfast.
He had told himself she was coming down with something.
He thought about the bruises he had explained away, one by one, for two months.
He pressed his palms against his eyes.
Ruth knocked softly and opened the door.
She was carrying two cups of tea and she set one on the nightstand without being asked.
"She's asleep," Ruth said.
"She asked for you twice and then went out like a light."
"Thank you for coming so fast."
Ruth sat on the edge of the bed.
"Daniel.
How long have you known something was wrong?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"Longer than I acted on it."
Ruth didn't say anything to that.
She just sat with him, which was the right thing.
"I keep thinking," he said, "about the little girl in the photograph.
Lily.
She was the same age as Sophie.
She had the same—" He stopped.
"She didn't have anyone who came home early."
Ruth set her hand on his arm and left it there.
"Sophie does," she said.
---
The coffee shop was small and half-empty at ten in the morning.
Daniel arrived first.
Carol came five minutes later.
They took a corner table with a clear view of the door.
At twelve minutes past ten, a woman walked in.
She was in her early forties, neat and careful-looking, with the particular stillness of someone who had spent a long time being invisible on purpose.
She scanned the room, found them, and came directly to the table without hesitation.
She sat down.
She didn't take off her coat.
"My name is Patricia Holt," she said.
"I was Marcus Webb's personal assistant for six years."
Daniel leaned forward.
"You said she's done this before.
What does that mean, exactly?"
Patricia set her hands flat on the table.
"Before Marcus, there was another man.
His name was Gerald Foss.
He had a daughter from his first marriage.
Seven years old." She looked at Daniel steadily.
"Vanessa was with Gerald for fourteen months.
During that time, the daughter — her name was Amy — was treated twice at urgent care.
Falls, they said.
Gerald believed it.
He believed everything Vanessa told him." Patricia paused.
"Gerald and Vanessa separated.
Amy went to live with her mother full-time.
She recovered."
"So Amy is alive," Carol said.
"Amy is twenty-two now.
And she has never forgotten." Patricia reached into her coat and placed a folded piece of paper on the table.
"That's her phone number.
She said to tell you she'll talk.
She's been waiting for someone to call."
Daniel unfolded the paper.
He looked at the number.
His hand was very steady, which surprised him.
"Why are you coming forward now?" Carol asked.
"After all this time?"
Patricia was quiet for a moment.
"Because I have a granddaughter," she said.
"She turned four last month."
Nobody said anything.
Patricia stood up.
"I'll deny this conversation if it comes to that.
I have a family to protect." She looked at Daniel.
"But you have what you need.
Use it."
She walked out.
The door closed behind her.
Carol looked at Daniel.
"Three victims.
Lily, Amy, and Sophie."
"Two survivors," Daniel said.
May you like
He folded the paper carefully and put it in his chest pocket, close.
"And one of them is ready to talk."
