Chapter 5: What Melissa Never Said
Claire called at seven-fifteen in the morning.
I heard it in her voice before she said a single word.
"You knew," she said.
"How did you know about Melissa?"
"I didn't.
Not until last night.
Tell me what she said."
A long breath.
"She said she met him at a conference eighteen months ago.
She said he was charming and persistent and that when she told him she wasn't interested, he didn't stop.
She said she filed a complaint with the university where the conference was held and that a week later someone sent messages to her department chair — messages that looked like they were from her, saying things she never said.
She withdrew the complaint.
She was afraid of losing her job."
I closed my eyes.
"She said she never told me because she didn't want to believe it was the same Greg.
She said the name was common enough.
She said she kept waiting for a photo."
"Did you send her one?"
"Last night.
After your text." Claire's voice broke slightly.
"She called me back in ten minutes."
I didn't say anything.
I let her have the silence.
"Mom, I've been engaged to him for four months.
I've been to his family's house.
I've met his mother.
I—" She stopped.
"He told me you wouldn't like him.
He told me before you ever walked through the door.
He said you'd be difficult.
He said older women sometimes struggled to accept that their daughters had grown up."
"He built the defense before the trial started," I said.
"I defended him to you in my own kitchen."
"I know."
"I told you he warned me you'd say exactly what you said."
"I know that too."
She was quiet for a moment.
"There's something else.
Melissa gave me a name.
A woman named Priya."
"I have that name too."
A pause.
"How?"
"Hannah called me last night."
The silence that followed was different from the others.
Heavier.
"He texted Hannah last night," I said.
"After he left your house.
He told her not to speak to anyone.
He said he had screenshots he could use against her."
"Oh God."
"He knew exactly who I was the moment he saw me at your table.
He knew I'd seen him.
He spent that entire dinner deciding what to do about it."
I heard Claire set something down.
A mug, maybe.
Something ceramic against wood.
"What do I do?" she said.
It came out small.
Not like a question she expected me to answer — more like something that had been sitting in her chest all night and finally found its way out.
"You don't call him," I said.
"Not yet.
You let me make one call first."
"To who?"
"I want to speak to someone who handles this kind of pattern.
Not the police — not yet.
Someone who knows what evidence looks like before it disappears."
"Mom." Her voice steadied.
"He's going to come here.
He said he'd call this morning and if I don't answer he'll come."
"Then don't be alone when he does," I said.
"I'll be there in forty minutes."
May you like
I was there in thirty-five.
Greg's car was already parked outside.
