Chapter 8: What Margaret Wanted to Offer
She called three more times before noon.
I kept every missed call logged and sent the screenshots to Grace.
At two-fifteen, Detective Paulson called.
His voice was unhurried and precise, the kind of voice that had heard every version of every story and was no longer surprised by any of them.
"Ms.
Harlow," he said.
"I've reviewed the materials your attorney submitted this morning.
I'd like to go through the timeline with you in detail.
Are you available to come in tomorrow?"
"Yes," I said.
"Whatever you need."
"One preliminary question.
The camera in the apartment — do you know if it was still recording when you left?"
"I don't know.
I didn't touch it."
"That's helpful.
We'll be requesting access to that device as part of the warrant." A pause.
"Ms.
Harlow, has either your husband or his mother attempted to contact you since last night?"
"Both of them.
Multiple times.
I have everything documented."
"Good.
Please continue to document and not respond.
If either of them attempts to meet with you in person, remove yourself from the situation and call us immediately."
After I hung up, I sat in Grace's conference room for a while, looking out the window at the street below.
Carol had come with me and was waiting in the lobby.
She had brought a book and hadn't asked a single question since we left her apartment.
That was the thing about Carol — she understood that some kinds of support are just presence.
My phone rang.
Not a number I recognized.
I almost let it go.
Then something made me answer.
"Olivia." A woman's voice.
Older.
Careful.
"You don't know me.
My name is Patricia Senn.
I was married to Margaret Harlow's brother for eleven years."
I sat up straighter.
"All right."
"I heard what's happening.
Word travels in that family." A pause.
"I want you to know — you are not the first.
There was a woman before you.
Her name was Diane.
She was married to a cousin of theirs.
Same pattern.
Same apartment.
Same papers in the drawer.
Diane didn't find them in time."
My hand was very still on the phone.
"What happened to Diane?"
"She lost her business.
Lost her house.
The divorce was finalized before she understood what had been done to her." Patricia's voice was steady but not cold.
"I tried to warn her.
I didn't know how to reach her in time.
When I saw your name in the documents Margaret showed my brother last month — she was bragging, she thought it was already done — I wrote your name down.
I've been trying to find a way to contact you."
"Why are you calling now?"
"Because Margaret called my brother this morning asking him to confirm a false timeline.
She wants him to say he witnessed you signing a document you never signed.
He called me afterward.
He won't do it.
But I thought you should know she's already trying to build a counter-story."
I picked up a pen.
"Patricia, would you be willing to speak to a detective named Paulson?"
A brief pause.
May you like
"Yes," she said.
"That's why I called."
