Chapter 4: The Woman Who Knew Too Much
Carol lived forty minutes away in a narrow terraced house that always smelled of fresh bread and old books.
She met me at the door before I'd even knocked, took one look at my face, and pulled me inside without a word.
She sat me at the kitchen table and put tea in front of me.
"Start from the beginning," she said.
I told her everything.
The broom handle.
Ryan's face when I sl\*pped him.
The camera.
The ring on the floor.
The officer outside.
The call from eight months ago.
Carol listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she wrapped both hands around her mug and said, "How long have you known Diane was doing this deliberately?"
"I've suspected for a year.
Known for certain for about twenty minutes."
"And Ryan?"
I looked at the table.
"I don't know where Ryan ends and Diane begins anymore.
That's the honest answer."
Carol set her mug down.
"Lauren.
I need to tell you something, and I need you to hear it properly."
I looked up.
"Six months ago, Diane called me."
The kitchen went very quiet.
"She called you."
"She told me you were unstable.
That you'd been making up stories about her to isolate Ryan from his family.
She asked me — very calmly, very politely — to encourage you to see a doctor." Carol's jaw tightened.
"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to upset you over what I thought was just a nasty woman being nasty.
But now—"
"Now it's a pattern," I said.
"Yes."
I thought about the fake police call.
My name.
My address.
A planted record designed to make me look like the problem.
"She's been building a file on me," I said slowly.
"A fake one.
In case I ever tried to leave or fight back."
Carol nodded.
"That's what it sounds like."
"Which means Ryan knew.
Or at least suspected."
"Lauren—"
"He had to know, Carol.
You don't live with someone and not notice when your mother is running a campaign against your wife."
Carol was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, "There's something else."
She got up, went to the hallway, and came back with a folded piece of paper.
"She sent this to Mum.
Three months ago.
Mum didn't show you because she was frightened of causing trouble." Carol placed it on the table.
I unfolded it.
It was a handwritten note on Diane's personal stationery.
Neat, careful handwriting.
The kind of handwriting that looked reasonable and measured.
*Dear Margaret, I'm writing to you woman to woman because I'm genuinely worried about Lauren's mental state.
Ryan has confided in me that she has been experiencing episodes of confusion and paranoia.
I think it would be better for everyone if the family gently encouraged her to seek help before this goes any further.
I know this is difficult to hear.
Please don't mention this letter to Lauren directly as it may upset her.
With concern, Diane Callahan.*
My hands were completely still on the table.
"She sent this to Mum," I said.
"Yes."
"To isolate me from my own family before I could isolate Ryan from his."
Carol reached across and put her hand over mine.
"You're not crazy, Lauren.
You never were.
She needed everyone around you to think you were — just in case."
I folded the letter back along its original crease.
"Can I keep this?"
"It was always yours," Carol said.
My phone buzzed on the table.
A number I didn't recognize.
I answered it.
"Mrs.
Callahan?" A woman's voice.
Careful.
Professional.
"My name is Sandra Osei.
I'm a solicitor.
I was given your number by Officer Tran.
I understand you may need some legal advice tonight."
I looked at Carol.
Carol nodded once.
May you like
"Yes," I said into the phone.
"I think I do."
