Chapter 10: What Diane Did Next
She called Tyler two days later.
He was sitting at the kitchen table — he'd been staying in the guest room, and we had reached a careful, exhausted truce where we talked about practical things and avoided the larger questions — when his phone rang and he looked at the screen and went very still.
"Put it on speaker," I said.
He looked at me.
"Tyler.
Speaker."
He answered and set the phone on the table between us.
"I heard you got a lawyer." Diane's voice was even.
Almost conversational.
"I think that's a mistake."
"Diane—"
"I've been very patient with you.
You know that.
I've kept this quiet for years.
I've been reasonable." A pause.
"But if you're going to go that route, I need you to understand that I will send everything I have to the fire department.
To your captain.
I'll send it to your union rep.
I'll send it to the local news if I have to."
Tyler looked at me.
I nodded.
"Go ahead," he said.
Silence on the line.
"Excuse me?"
"I said go ahead," Tyler said.
"Send it."
"Tyler, I am not bluffing—"
"I know you're not." His voice was steadier than I expected.
"But my wife already talked to Captain Reyes.
And we have an attorney.
And Danny gave us the bank records." A pause.
"We know what you've been doing, Diane.
All of it.
And if you send those texts, the next call you get is going to be from law enforcement."
The line was quiet for a long moment.
"You're making a mistake," she said.
But something had changed in her voice.
The evenness was gone.
"Maybe," Tyler said.
"But it's our mistake to make."
She hung up.
We sat at the table.
The phone screen went dark.
"She's going to send them," Tyler said.
"Probably," I said.
"And then what?"
"And then Carol files the extortion complaint, and Diane finds out that threatening someone is a crime regardless of what the underlying information is." I looked at him.
"And then it's over.
One way or another, it's over."
He put his face in his hands.
Not crying.
Just holding it there for a moment.
"I'm sorry," he said.
It came out muffled, into his palms.
"I know."
"I don't mean sorry like it fixes anything.
I mean — I'm sorry I let it get here.
I'm sorry I chose the wrong thing every single time there was a choice."
I didn't answer right away.
"I know," I said again.
"I heard you."
May you like
That was all I could give him that night.
But I gave him that much.
