Chapter 6: Raymond
Adrian called Raymond that afternoon.
He didn't tell Clara or Olivia he was going to do it.
He went to the back garden, stood near the fence where the signal was better, and dialed the number he hadn't used in over a year.
Raymond picked up on the second ring.
"Adrian." His voice was warm in the way that certain voices are warm — practiced, surface-level, designed to disarm.
"It's been a while."
"It has," Adrian said.
"I'll be direct with you.
I need to ask you something and I need an honest answer."
A brief pause.
"Of course."
"Do you know Vanessa?"
Longer pause this time.
"Vanessa," Raymond repeated, as if tasting the name.
"I've met a lot of people, Adrian.
You'd have to be more specific."
"Vanessa Holt.
She's been spending time in my home.
Around my daughter." Adrian kept his voice level.
"She was here the same day you came by eighteen months ago.
Olivia remembers."
"Olivia's a sharp girl," Raymond said.
Not a denial.
"Raymond."
"We've spoken a few times.
Socially.
Nothing significant."
"She was in contact with Gerald Marsh.
My partner's former landlord.
A man connected to a private investigation firm that searched Clara's name two years ago." Adrian paused.
"Before Clara and I were together.
Before anyone in my life would have had a reason to look into her."
Silence.
"That's a lot of connecting of dots," Raymond said.
"Am I wrong?"
Another silence.
Longer.
The kind that answers without answering.
"What is it you think happened?" Raymond said finally.
His tone had shifted — the warmth was still there, but underneath it, something had pulled tight.
"I think you hired someone to look into Clara before she was ever part of my life.
I think when that found nothing, you found another way in.
I think Vanessa was that way in."
"Adrian—"
"I think you've been waiting for something to use.
To discredit her.
To push her out." Adrian's voice stayed calm.
"What I don't understand yet is why.
The will was settled.
You lost the contest.
That's finished."
"The will," Raymond said slowly, "was only part of it."
Adrian waited.
"Your mother and I had an arrangement," Raymond said.
"Before she passed.
An understanding about the house.
About what would happen to certain assets if you remarried.
Or if someone moved in with you who was not — suitable."
"Suitable," Adrian repeated.
"Your mother had concerns.
About the kind of person who might take advantage of you after she was gone.
She asked me to watch out for you."
"She asked you to spy on the women in my life."
"She asked me to protect the family."
Adrian looked back at the house through the kitchen window.
Clara was at the table.
Olivia was beside her.
Emma was in her high chair, reaching for something just out of reach.
"There is no arrangement," Adrian said.
"There was no codicil.
I had the will reviewed by two solicitors.
There is nothing in it that gives you any authority over my life or my home."
"Adrian—"
"If you contact Vanessa again, I'll involve a solicitor.
If Vanessa sets foot in this house again, I'll involve the police." He paused.
"And if I find out that investigation firm was used to gather private information about Clara — her therapy, her finances, her movements — I'll make sure that becomes a matter for the authorities as well."
Raymond said nothing.
"Do you understand me?" Adrian said.
"You're making a mistake." Raymond's warmth was entirely gone now.
What was left was flat and cold.
"You don't know this woman.
You don't know what she—"
"I know what she did yesterday," Adrian said.
"She ran across a room and caught my daughter.
That's what I know."
He ended the call.
He stood in the garden for a moment, looking at the sky.
Then he went back inside.
Clara looked up when he came through the door.
She read his face.
"You called him," she said.
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
Adrian sat down.
He told them everything — the arrangement, the understanding, the word *suitable* spoken in Raymond's mouth like it meant something other than what it was.
Olivia's jaw tightened.
"He actually said that."
"He did."
"So Vanessa was reporting back to him," Clara said.
"Everything she collected on her phone.
The screenshots.
The notes about my schedule.
That wasn't for her.
That was for Raymond."
"Yes," Adrian said.
"And the stroller," Olivia said quietly.
"If she'd managed to make you believe Clara had done it — if she'd succeeded—"
"Clara would have been out of the house," Adrian said.
"And Raymond would have had exactly what he wanted."
The three of them sat with that.
Emma reached for her cup, knocked it sideways, and looked at it with great interest.
Clara reached over and set it upright.
"He threatened you," she said.
It wasn't a question.
"He tried to."
"What are you going to do?"
Adrian looked at her steadily.
"I'm going to talk to a solicitor tomorrow.
I want everything documented — the investigation firm, the connection to Marsh, Vanessa's phone records if we can get them legally, Olivia's notes." He looked at his daughter.
"All of it."
Olivia nodded.
"I'll write it up tonight."
"And Vanessa?" Clara said.
Adrian was quiet for a moment.
"She'll come back," he said.
"Raymond will send her.
He's not finished."
Clara nodded slowly.
She looked at the camera in the hallway — visible from where she sat.
"Then we'll be ready," she said.
That night, after Emma was asleep and Olivia had gone upstairs, Adrian found Clara in the hallway.
She was looking up at the camera.
"It's still recording," he said.
"I know," she said.
"I was thinking about the day Olivia described.
Vanessa standing here with her phone out." She turned to look at him.
"She wasn't checking whether the camera existed.
She was checking the angle.
What it could and couldn't see."
Adrian looked at the camera.
Then at the staircase.
Then at the spot on the floor where the stroller had been.
"She planned it," he said.
"She planned it," Clara confirmed.
His phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
An unknown number.
May you like
A text message with four words.
*You should ask Clara.*
