Chapter 8: Patrick Hale
I drove to Ruth's house after leaving Carol's office.
Zoe was in the backyard with Ruth's dog, throwing a tennis ball with the focused intensity she brought to everything she decided was worth doing.
She didn't see me come through the gate.
I stood there for a moment watching her — the way she ran, the way she laughed when the dog cut the wrong direction — and thought about the word *useful.*
Then she saw me and ran over and I crouched down and held her for a long time.
"I thought you said noon," she said into my shoulder.
"I was early."
She pulled back and looked at my face the way she sometimes did, reading it.
"Is everything okay?"
"It's going to be," I said.
"I promise."
She studied me for one more second.
Then she went back to the dog.
Ruth brought coffee out and sat beside me on the back step.
"How was Carol?"
"Good.
Useful." I paused on the word.
"She thinks Diana may have left the folder for me to find on purpose."
Ruth was quiet for a moment.
"Why?"
"I don't know yet."
"What do you know about Patrick Hale?"
"Almost nothing.
She mentioned an ex once, early on.
I didn't ask for details.
I thought it was in the past."
Ruth set her mug down.
"I looked him up this morning.
After you called."
I turned to look at her.
"He's a property developer.
Based in the city.
He and Diana were together for about three years before she met you." Ruth paused.
"He's also currently going through a divorce.
His wife filed eight months ago."
Eight months ago.
Two months after Diana's first email to him.
"His wife's name is Sandra Hale," Ruth said.
"She's been posting about it on a community Facebook group.
Not naming him directly.
But it's not hard to figure out."
"Ruth—"
"I know.
I know.
But here's the thing." She turned to face me.
"Sandra Hale posted three weeks ago.
She said she found out her husband had been planning to leave her for someone else for over a year.
That the other woman had been — and she used this word — *positioned.*"
The yard was quiet except for the dog.
"Positioned," I said.
"Married to someone else.
Waiting.
While he finalized his divorce." Ruth looked at me steadily.
"Tom.
Diana didn't marry you because she wanted to be with you.
She married you because she needed somewhere to be while she waited for him to be free."
I looked at Zoe across the yard.
She was sitting in the grass now, letting the dog climb into her lap, laughing at something.
"The folder," I said slowly.
"She wanted you to find it," Ruth said.
"Because if you found it and ended the marriage, she could go to Patrick and say she didn't leave you — you ended it.
She gets to be the one who was let go."
"And Zoe?"
Ruth's jaw tightened.
"Zoe was the thing that made you feel guilty enough to stay busy at work.
Kept you from looking too closely.
And when things got difficult, Diana could always point to how hard it was to raise someone else's child."
I set my coffee down on the step.
Across the yard, Zoe had found a stick and was showing the dog how to sit for it.
"She's been doing that for twenty minutes," Ruth said quietly.
"Teaching him.
She's patient with him.
She talks to him like he understands."
I watched my daughter.
"She's a good kid," Ruth said.
"She's always been a good kid.
Whatever Diana told you about her being difficult — that was management.
Keeping you slightly off-balance about her so you'd defer to Diana's version."
I thought about fourteen months of small adjustments.
Small doubts.
*She's been fussy today.
She's going through a phase.
She's more sensitive than most kids her age.*
"I believed her," I said.
"You trusted your wife," Ruth said.
"That's not the same thing."
My phone buzzed.
I looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
But the text read: *We should talk before this goes further.
— P*
I showed it to Ruth.
She read it.
Looked up at me.
"Patrick Hale," she said.
"Yes."
"What are you going to do?"
I looked at the message for a long moment.
Then I put the phone face-down on the step.
"I'm going to watch my daughter teach your dog to sit," I said.
"And then I'm going to call Carol."
May you like
Ruth picked up her coffee.
"Good answer," she said.
