Chương 6
He had been right.
We were not ready.
We got him anyway.
Cooper was gone now.
Three years.
I still sometimes expected to hear his paws on the hardwood floor.
A normal memory.
A painful memory.
A memory that belonged to me.
I hated that Marcus was attached to so many parts of my life.
It would have been easier if he had always been cruel.
Cruel people were simple.
Kind people who did terrible things were harder to understand.
Claire came back inside.
“He’ll talk to us.”
“When?”
“Today.”
“Who is he?”
“Her name is Rachel Miller.”
I waited.
Claire looked uncomfortable.
“She worked with victims of domestic abuse.”
The word made me flinch.
“I’m not—”
She raised her hand.
“I know.”
“No, I mean, Marcus never hit me.”
“I know.”
“He never threatened me.”
“I know.”
She sat down.
“Anna, abuse isn’t always someone screaming or breaking things.”
I looked away.
The sentence bothered me because part of me wanted to reject it.
Not because it was wrong.
Because accepting it changed the story I had been telling myself.
“I need to know what this is,” I said.
Claire nodded.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
Rachel called twenty minutes later.
She had a calm voice.
Not soft.
Not comforting.
Professional.
The kind of voice someone develops after hearing thousands of painful stories.
Claire put her on speaker.
“Anna?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Rachel. Claire explained some of what happened.”
I looked at Claire.
“She told you everything?”
“Only what was necessary.”
Rachel paused.
“I need to ask you something important.”
“Okay.”
“Do you believe Marcus knows you found the camera?”
I looked toward the hallway.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you believe he knows you suspect him?”
I thought about the way he paused outside the guest room.
The way he watched my face.
“Yes.”
“Then the first priority is not proving everything.”
“What is it?”
“Reducing his ability to control the situation.”
The word control stayed with me.
Because I had never used it before.
Not with Marcus.
Not with my marriage.
I had used words like complicated.
Stressful.
Difficult.
But not control.
Rachel asked about the tea.
She asked about the notebook.
She asked about the other names.
When I mentioned them, the silence on the phone changed.
“What names?” she asked.
I swallowed.
“There were three names in his notebook.”
“Did you recognize any?”
“No.”
“Did Claire photograph the pages?”
“Yes.”
“Do not open that notebook again.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because if Marcus notices you’re interested in those names, he may change his behavior.”
“That sounds like you think he has done this before.”
Rachel didn’t answer immediately.
“I think you should prepare yourself for information you may not like.”
I closed my eyes.
“Do you know him?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
I noticed.
Claire noticed too.
“Rachel,” Claire said.
Another pause.
Then Rachel sighed.
“I don’t know him personally.”
The correction mattered.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means I have seen patterns like this.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What patterns?”
“People who collect information about others before they act.”
The room felt smaller.
“What are they usually preparing for?”
Rachel’s voice lowered.
“Depends on the person.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
A pause.
“It’s the honest one.”
After the call ended, Claire and I sat at the kitchen table.
Neither of us spoke.
Outside, the afternoon moved on.
A delivery truck stopped at the neighbor’s house.
A dog barked.
A child laughed somewhere down the street.
Then my phone buzzed.
A new message.
This time from Marcus.
Where are you?
I stared at it.
Claire leaned closer.
“Don’t answer immediately.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because if I suddenly act different, he’ll know.”
Claire looked at the screen.
Then at me.
“Okay.”
I typed slowly.
At home. Working.
The response came almost instantly.
Good.
I’m glad.
I looked at those two words.
Good.
I’m glad.
A normal husband’s message.
A dangerous husband’s message.
I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
Then another message appeared.
By the way, did you sleep better last night?
My skin went cold.
Claire read it.
Neither of us spoke.
Because there was only one reason he would ask that.
He knew.
He was checking whether his plan had worked.
I stared at the message until the screen dimmed.
By the way, did you sleep better last night?
My thumb hovered over the keyboard.
A dozen possible replies appeared in my head.
Yes.
No.
What do you mean?
Why are you asking?
Every answer felt like a mistake.
Because Marcus knew me.
He knew when I was angry.
He knew when I was pretending.
He knew the difference between my real smile and the one I used when I didn't want to explain something.
Seven years of marriage had given him a map of me.
The problem was that I had spent the last few hours realizing he might have been using that map for something else.
Claire took the phone from my hand.
“Don’t answer yet.”
“I can’t ignore him forever.”
“I know.”
She looked at the message again.
“Just don’t answer from fear.”
I almost laughed.
“That’s the only thing I’m feeling right now.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You’re feeling fear.”
Then she pointed at the phone.
“But you’re also thinking.”
That was the part I needed to remember.
I was not only afraid.
I was still myself.
I still designed complicated projects.
I still negotiated with impossible clients.
I still fixed things when they broke.
I still knew how to solve problems.
I had just forgotten that for a while.
I took the phone back.
I typed.
A little better.
Busy morning.
I watched the message send.
The three dots appeared almost immediately.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally, Marcus replied.
Good.
Take care of yourself.
I looked at the screen.
There was no accusation.
No question.
No anger.
May you like
That somehow frightened me more.
“He’s pretending everything is normal,” Claire said.
