Chương 14
My hand shook when I wrote my name.
Not because of the money.
Because signing it made everything more real.
I had a lawyer.
I was divorcing my husband.
I was potentially fighting him over his father’s estate.
Four weeks earlier, I had spent an entire afternoon comparing mattress pads because Arthur complained his hips hurt.
Now people were talking about affidavits and fiduciary duties.
Dana handed me a copy.
“Go home.”
I almost corrected her.
Then I realized she meant the room above Mrs. Dillard’s garage.
That counted now.
“Don’t answer Curtis tonight.”
“You’ve said that.”
“I say important things twice when clients look like they’ll ignore me.”
“I won’t ignore you.”
“Good.”
She opened the door.
Then she stopped.
“One more thing.”
I looked back.
“You do not have to decide how you feel about Arthur’s money this week.”
“I know.”
“You say that like someone who absolutely plans to decide tonight.”
I smiled without humor.
“Maybe.”
“Don’t.”
On the drive back, I stopped at a grocery store and bought eggs, bread, coffee, and the cheapest bottle of wine I could find without examining the label too closely.
At the register, the cashier asked if I had a rewards number.
I almost said Curtis’s.
For ten years, everything had been attached to the same phone number.
Groceries.
Pharmacy points.
Dry cleaning.
Restaurant reservations.
I stood there long enough that the cashier repeated herself.
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Sorry.”
“You can sign up.”
“Not today.”
She shrugged.
“Fair.”
Back at Mrs. Dillard’s, I climbed the stairs with the grocery bag digging into my fingers.
Her kitchen window was open downstairs.
I could hear a television game show and the clatter of dishes.
She called up before I reached my door.
“Vanessa?”
“Yeah?”
“You eat?”
“Eventually.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I bought food.”
“Better.”
I unlocked my room.
Then she called again.
“And your husband was here.”
I stopped.
The grocery bag swung against my leg.
“What?”
Mrs. Dillard appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
She held a dish towel over one shoulder.
“About an hour ago.”
My pulse began hammering.
“What did he want?”
“You.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you weren’t home.”
“Did he ask to wait?”
“He tried.”
I stared at her.
“What happened?”
“I told him no.”
“Mrs. Dillard.”
“What?”
“You didn’t have to get involved.”
“I didn’t.”
She crossed her arms.
“I got involved when a man I don’t know parked in my driveway and asked whether a woman renting from me was alone.”
My stomach tightened.
“He asked that?”
“He asked if you had anybody staying with you.”
I put the bag down on the landing.
“Exactly how did he say it?”
She thought for a moment.
“Is Vanessa staying by herself?”
I closed my eyes.
That could mean anything.
Concern.
Control.
A setup.
Dana’s warning returned.
Do not meet him.
Mrs. Dillard watched me.
“You want me to call somebody?”
“No.”
“Police?”
“No.”
“He threaten you?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
She did not look convinced.
“He’s my husband.”
“That is not the comforting sentence you think it is.”
I looked down at her.
She shrugged.
“I watch television.”
“I’m okay.”
“All right.”
She went back toward her kitchen, then turned.
“I told him if he came back without you inviting him, I’d have him removed.”
I almost laughed.
“You’re five foot three.”
“Five foot four.”
“Sorry.”
“And I have neighbors.”
That was apparently the end of the matter.
I carried the groceries inside and locked the door.
Then I checked the lock again.
Curtis had not texted after the messages in Dana’s office.
That worried me more than if he had.
I put the eggs in the small refrigerator.
The wine stayed on the counter unopened.
For several minutes, I stood at the window looking down at the alley behind the garage.
No black car.
No familiar figure.
Nothing.
I told myself I was being dramatic.
Then I told myself I had spent ten years training myself to call obvious warning signs dramatic.
My phone rang.
Curtis.
I let it go to voicemail.
Thirty seconds later, another call.
Then another.
I turned the phone face down.
It buzzed once more.
Voicemail transcription appeared.
Please stop doing this.
Doing what?
Not answering?
Having a lawyer?
Existing beyond his reach?
I listened anyway.
His voice was controlled.
“Vanessa, I went by the place you’re staying because I wanted to talk in person.”
He paused.
“I’m not trying to scare you.”
Another pause.
“I know how that sounds.”
For one second, he sounded tired enough to be familiar.
Then the rest came.
“We have ten years together, and Samuel is turning this into something it doesn’t have to be.”
I closed my eyes.
“I need you to think about what happens if this becomes a court fight.”
His voice hardened slightly.
“Not just to me.”
There it was.
The threat hidden inside concern.
“You think Erica is helping you, but she’s covering herself.”
He exhaled.
“And Dad was not in a good place when he signed whatever Samuel put in front of him.”
I stopped breathing.
Whatever Samuel put in front of him.
He was already moving from Arthur’s decision to Samuel’s manipulation.
The voicemail continued.
“If you go along with this, everything comes out.”
Another pause.
“All of it.”
Then he hung up.
I replayed that sentence.
Everything comes out.
I had no idea what he meant.
That was probably the point.
Fear works best when it supplies its own details.
I saved the voicemail and forwarded it to Dana.
She responded two minutes later.
Do not reply.
Call me if he comes back.
I typed, He already came here.
Her answer came immediately.
Did he enter the property?
Driveway.
Any threat?
No.
Then document time and what landlord heard.
I went downstairs with my phone.
Mrs. Dillard was washing a frying pan.
“What now?”
May you like
“I need to write down what Curtis said when he was here.”
She turned off the faucet.
