Chapter 4: Everything She Hadn't Said
I sat up straight in the dark.
"Hannah.
Yes.
Are you all right?"
"I'm okay." A pause.
"I got your number from my father.
He wrote down your name when he came to get me today.
He looked you up.
I hope that's okay."
"It's more than okay," I said.
"I'm glad you called."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
"He texted me tonight," she said.
"Greg.
I didn't answer, but he texted again.
He said — he said that a woman had been asking questions about him and that I shouldn't talk to anyone."
My hand tightened on the phone.
"He knows who I am," I said.
"He knows you're her mother.
He said — " She stopped.
"He said if I talked to you, he'd tell people things about me.
Things that aren't true.
He said he had screenshots."
"Screenshots of what?"
"Nothing real.
He could make them look real, though.
He's done it before."
I was out of bed now, standing at the window.
"Hannah," I said carefully.
"Has he done this before?
With other women?"
The silence that followed was its own answer.
"There was a girl in my building," she said finally.
"About a year ago.
Her name was Priya.
She went to the police and they said there wasn't enough.
He hadn't technically done anything.
He was just — always there.
Always texting.
And then the screenshots appeared online and everyone thought she'd been sending him messages.
She moved away."
I wrote the name down.
Priya.
I didn't know why.
It felt important to write it.
"I want to help you," I said.
"But I need you to understand — my daughter is engaged to this man.
She doesn't believe me yet.
If I go to her with only what I saw on the street, she'll find a way to explain it away.
He's already given her the explanation."
"I know." Hannah's voice was steadier now.
"That's why I called.
Because I think — I think you're the only person who might actually stop him."
"Tell me everything," I said.
"From the beginning."
She talked for forty minutes.
I listened without interrupting.
By the time she finished, I had three pages of notes and a name I hadn't expected — a name that connected Greg not just to Hannah and Priya, but to a complaint filed eighteen months ago at a university two towns over.
A complaint that had been quietly withdrawn.
The girl who withdrew it was named Melissa.
I knew that name.
Melissa was Claire's closest friend from college.
I sat with that for a long moment.
"Hannah," I said.
"I'm going to need you to be willing to say what you told me tonight.
Not to the police.
Not yet.
Just to my daughter.
In person, if you're willing."
"Will she listen?"
"I don't know," I said honestly.
"But she needs to hear it from you.
Not from me."
"Okay," Hannah said.
"Okay.
I can do that."
After we hung up, I sat at my kitchen table with my three pages of notes and a cold cup of tea I didn't remember making.
I thought about Claire's face in the kitchen.
The way she'd asked, *What if you're wrong?*
I thought about Melissa.
About the fact that Claire spoke to her every week and had never mentioned Greg's name to her.
Or perhaps she had, and Melissa had said nothing.
I picked up my phone and sent Claire a text.
Short.
Careful.
*I need you to call Melissa before you speak to Greg tomorrow.
Just call her.
Please.*
Three dots appeared.
Then stopped.
Then appeared again.
*Why?*
I stared at the screen.
*Because I think she already knows him.*
The dots appeared one more time.
Then nothing.
The screen went dark.
May you like
I didn't sleep after that.
I sat at the table and waited for morning, and I thought about a man who walked faster, and all the women who had learned that the hard way before my daughter ever met him.
