Chapter 5: The Woman Who Called in the Night
"How did you get this number?" Daniel said.
"Marcus gave it to me." Patricia Webb's voice was steady, unhurried.
"Before you ask — he doesn't know I'm calling.
He doesn't know about the baby yet.
I found out on my own."
"How?"
"Elena called me three weeks ago.
She didn't tell me she was pregnant.
She called to ask whether Marcus had ever mentioned her to me, because she needed to make a decision and she wanted to understand what kind of man she was dealing with." A pause.
"I could hear it in her voice.
I've had two children.
I know what that particular kind of careful sounds like."
Daniel said nothing.
"I'm not calling to cause trouble," Patricia continued.
"I'm calling because I was at your engagement party tonight.
I was a guest of the Alderman's wife.
I was on the terrace when it happened." Her voice tightened slightly.
"I saw what that woman did to Elena.
And I saw you run."
"Mrs.
Webb—"
"I want to give a statement.
To whoever needs it.
I want it on record that I was standing twelve feet away and I saw Victoria Hale push Elena Ramirez over that railing deliberately and without hesitation." She paused.
"I also want you to know that my son is a decent man.
He ended things with Elena badly — he panicked, and I'm not proud of that.
But he is not the kind of man who would abandon a child.
When he finds out, he will want to be involved."
Daniel leaned forward in the chair, elbows on his knees.
"Does Elena know you're calling me?"
"No.
I'll call her tomorrow, when she's stronger.
Tonight I'm calling you because you're the one who needs to know that you have a witness who will say exactly what she saw, in any courtroom, to any camera, to anyone who asks."
"I appreciate that, Mrs.
Webb."
"I'm not finished." Her tone didn't change.
"Victoria Hale's family and my family have intersected before.
Her father, Gerald Hale, ran a property investment group in the nineties.
My late husband was one of his early investors.
The group collapsed.
Gerald Hale walked away clean.
Eleven families did not." A beat.
"I don't know if that's relevant to what you're dealing with.
But I thought you should know the kind of people you're untangling yourself from."
The room was very quiet.
"Thank you," Daniel said.
"Take care of that young woman," Patricia said.
"And her child."
She hung up.
Daniel sat with the phone in his hand for a long moment.
Then he opened his contacts and found a name he hadn't called in two years: James Whitmore, his older brother.
Retired federal prosecutor.
Currently living in Boston with his wife and three dogs and a stated preference for never discussing law again.
James picked up on the second ring, which meant he hadn't been asleep.
"I saw the news alert," James said.
"Are you all right?"
"There's already a news alert?"
"'Incident at Whitmore Tower engagement party.' No details yet.
Give me details."
Daniel gave him details.
James listened the way he always had — completely still, no reactions, no interruptions, just the faint sound of him thinking.
When Daniel finished, James said: "Victoria's going to try to reframe this as a domestic dispute.
Her lawyers will push the jealousy angle — unstable fiancé, overreaction, tragic misunderstanding.
They'll try to make Elena the story."
"I know."
"You need to control the narrative before morning.
Not spin it.
Control it.
There's a difference." James paused.
"The footage Noah pulled — is it clean?
No gaps, no ambiguity?"
"None."
"Then you're in a stronger position than she is.
But she knows that too, which means she's already planning her counter." Another pause.
"Daniel.
What did she mean in that text?
'Other things you won't want made public.'"
"I've been trying to figure that out."
"Think harder.
Victoria has been in your life for fourteen months.
What does she have access to that could be used as leverage?"
Daniel thought about it seriously for the first time.
His home.
His office.
His personal calendar.
His correspondence.
His private server — no, that was encrypted and she had no credentials.
His financial records — no, those were clean.
His personal relationships—
He stopped.
"My mother," he said quietly.
James went very still on the other end.
"There were letters," Daniel said.
"My mother wrote letters in the last year of her life.
Personal ones.
Some of them were about me.
Things she worried about.
Doubts she had.
Things she never said out loud." He paused.
"I kept them in the study.
In the desk.
Victoria had access to the study."
"Could those letters be used to hurt you?"
"Not legally.
But publicly—" He stopped.
"My mother was a private woman.
If those letters were leaked, if they were taken out of context—"
"She's threatening your mother's memory," James said flatly.
"That's what she has."
The monitor beside Elena's bed beeped three times in a row, then steadied.
"James," Daniel said.
"I need you in Chicago."
May you like
A long pause.
"I'll be on the first flight," James said.
