Chapter 5: The Woman at the Gym
Renata Holloway answered on the second ring.
I was sitting in Daniel's car in the driveway, still in the borrowed sweater his housekeeper — the current one, a quiet woman named Bev who had worked for the family for three years — had found for me while my shirt dried.
Victoria had not come back into the kitchen after I mentioned Renata's name.
I had heard her go upstairs.
I had heard a door lock.
"Mrs.
Holloway," I said.
"My name is Clara Vance.
I'm calling about a woman named Victoria Vance.
I believe she was a member of your gym."
A pause.
Then: "How did you get this number?"
"My brother is Victoria's husband.
I'm calling because something happened today, and I'm trying to understand whether it was isolated or part of a pattern."
Another pause.
Longer.
"Are you the trust," she said.
Not a question.
More like something she was placing.
"I'm sorry?"
"Your brother mentioned once — at a function — that his family trust was managed by his sister.
I remember because he said it like it was something he was proud of." She paused.
"Are you her?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll talk to you." Her voice shifted.
Not warmer exactly.
More decided.
"She had me removed from a gym I had been going to for six years.
She told the management I had been making threatening comments to her near the equipment.
That I had followed her into the car park twice."
"Had you?"
"I had said good morning to her once.
That was the full extent of our interaction." A short sound, not quite a laugh.
"I didn't even know her name until the manager showed me the complaint form."
"Did you try to dispute it?"
"I tried.
The manager was very apologetic.
Very careful.
But she had been a member there a long time, and she had spent a great deal of money on personal training sessions.
They offered me a refund of my membership fee and asked me not to return." She paused.
"My husband was furious.
He wanted to pursue it formally.
I told him I didn't want the stress."
"I understand."
"I don't think she expected anyone to ever connect the dots," Renata said.
"I think she assumed I would simply disappear.
That's what people like her count on.
That the person they've targeted will be too embarrassed, or too tired, or too alone to do anything about it."
I looked through the windshield at the front of the house.
The upstairs curtain moved.
"Mrs.
Holloway," I said.
"Would you be willing to put what you've told me in writing?"
Silence.
"What are you planning to do?" she asked.
"I'm not certain yet.
But I want to be prepared."
Another long pause.
Then: "Yes.
I'll put it in writing.
I've wanted to for two years.
I just didn't think anyone would care."
"I care," I said.
I ended the call and sat for a moment.
The curtain upstairs was still.
Whatever Victoria had been watching for, she had stopped watching.
My phone buzzed.
A text from a number I still didn't recognize.
*There's also the matter of the previous housekeeper.
The one before Bev.
Ask Daniel about Margaret Chen.*
I read it twice.
I typed back: *Who is this?*
Three dots appeared.
Then stopped.
Then appeared again.
Then: *Someone who has been waiting for the right person to ask the right questions.*
I got out of the car and went back inside.
Bev was in the hallway, folding a clean towel with the careful precision of someone who had learned to make herself invisible.
She looked up when I came in.
"Bev," I said.
"Before you worked here — do you know anything about the woman who had this position before you?"
Bev's hands went still on the towel.
"Her name was Margaret," she said carefully.
"Margaret Chen."
"What happened to her?"
Bev looked toward the stairs.
Then back at me.
"She didn't leave voluntarily," she said.
May you like
"That's all I know for certain.
But I know that much."
