Chapter 9: What Patrick Remembered
Patrick met them at a coffee shop two days later.
He was a quiet man, careful with his words, and he looked uncomfortable from the moment they sat down.
"I want to say first," he said, "that I had no idea what any of it meant at the time.
If I had—"
"We know," Adrian said.
"We're not here to blame you."
Patrick wrapped both hands around his cup.
"The dinner was eight months ago.
A group of us from university.
Vanessa came late.
Marcus was already there — someone had brought him, I don't remember who.
They acted like they'd never met.
But I saw them arrive together.
I saw them in the car park before they came in separately." He paused.
"I thought it was odd.
I didn't think it was — this."
"Did you hear anything they talked about?" Clara asked.
"Not directly.
But at one point I was near the bar and Vanessa was on her phone.
She said — I remember this clearly because it struck me as strange — she said, 'The timeline needs to move.
He's not going to stay unhappy forever.'"
The coffee shop was warm and ordinary around them.
"He's not going to stay unhappy forever," Adrian repeated.
"I assumed she meant a friend going through a divorce.
Something like that." Patrick looked at Adrian.
"I'm sorry.
I should have thought more about it."
"You couldn't have known," Clara said.
"There's something else." Patrick reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone.
"Three weeks ago, Marcus sent me a message asking if I was still in contact with you.
I said yes.
He asked if Clara seemed — and this is his exact word — 'settled.' I told him I hadn't seen you in months and I didn't know what he was talking about.
He didn't reply." Patrick turned the phone around.
"I kept the message."
Clara looked at the screen.
The timestamp.
The wording.
*Does Clara seem settled?*
"Can you forward that to me?" she said.
"Already done.
I sent it before I came here." He put the phone away.
"What are you going to do with it?"
"Give it to the police," Adrian said.
"Along with everything else."
Patrick nodded.
He looked relieved and guilty in equal measure.
Outside, walking back to the car, Clara stopped on the pavement.
"Eight months," she said.
"She has been sitting in our home.
Holding Emma.
Eating at our table.
For eight months, while she was planning this."
Adrian put his hand on her back.
"It's over," he said.
"Is it?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Because they both knew the answer.
It wasn't over yet.
But the shape of it had changed.
The thing that had been invisible was now visible.
And visible things could be stopped.
His phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
A message from an unknown number.
May you like
Five words.
*You should have chosen better.*
