Chapter 7: The Moment He Knew I Knew
Robert Ashby was a quiet man who asked precise questions and wrote everything in a narrow notebook with a green cover.
He met me and Diane in his office on a Tuesday morning and listened without interrupting for forty minutes.
When I finished, he set down his pen.
"The footage alone is significant," he said.
"Combined with Patricia's written record, the Halcyon connection, and the insurance policy, you have the foundation of a serious criminal case.
What I need now is the financial link — a direct transfer between your husband or his companies and Dr.
Vance."
"How do we get that?"
"That's the job of the investigators I work with.
But I want to be clear about something first." He looked at me steadily.
"Once we move formally, your husband will know.
He will respond.
Men who do what you're describing do not sit quietly when they feel cornered."
"I know."
"Do you have somewhere safe to go?"
"My sister's."
"Go there tonight.
Don't go back to the house alone again."
I nodded.
"One more thing," he said.
"Is there anything in that house — documents, a second laptop, a phone — that he might try to access or destroy once he realizes what's happening?"
I thought for a moment.
"His home office," I said.
"He keeps a locked filing cabinet.
He's always kept it locked, even from me.
I never questioned it."
Ashby looked at Diane, then back at me.
"We'll need a warrant for that.
I'll start the process today."
I drove home that afternoon to pack a bag.
I told myself it would take twenty minutes.
Get clothes, get my documents, get Grace's photos from the shelf in her room, and leave.
Daniel was supposed to be at a meeting until six.
His car was in the driveway.
I sat outside for a moment.
Then I went in.
He was standing in the kitchen.
He had a glass of water in his hand.
He looked at me when I came through the door, and something in his face had changed.
Not anger.
Not guilt.
Calculation.
"I got a call today," he said.
"From the hospital.
They said someone has been accessing administrative records.
Asking questions about staff assignments." He set the glass down.
"Do you know anything about that?"
"No," I said.
"Elena."
"I said no, Daniel."
He took a step toward me.
Not threatening.
Measured.
"I know you've been struggling," he said.
"Losing Grace — it's done something to you.
I understand that.
But I'm worried that grief is making you see things that aren't there."
"I'm not seeing things."
"Then what are you doing?" His voice stayed soft.
"Because whatever you think you've found — whatever someone has told you — you need to be very careful.
People will take advantage of a grieving mother.
They'll feed her a story and let her destroy her own life."
"Is that what you're afraid of?" I asked.
"That I'll destroy my life?"
"I'm afraid you'll destroy *ours*."
I looked at him.
Three years of marriage.
Grace's whole life.
"I'm going to stay at Diane's for a few days," I said.
"I need space."
Something moved behind his eyes.
"That's not a good idea right now," he said.
"It wasn't a question."
I walked past him to the bedroom.
I packed the bag.
I took Grace's photos off the shelf and wrapped them in a sweater.
When I came back out, he was standing in the hallway.
"Elena." His voice had changed.
The softness was gone.
"If you walk out that door and start making accusations you can't support, you will regret it.
I promise you that."
I stopped.
I looked at him directly.
May you like
"Then I guess we'll find out," I said.
I walked out.
