Chapter 8: What He Was Capable Of
My solicitor's name was Robert Finch, and he had been practising family law for twenty-six years.
When I read him the voicemail from memory — I had listened to it twice before deleting it, enough to recall it almost word for word — he was quiet for a moment.
"He said 'you don't know what I'm capable of,'" Robert repeated.
"Yes."
"In the context of a fraud investigation and active divorce proceedings."
"Yes."
"Right." I heard him writing.
"I'll be filing for a non-molestation order this afternoon as a precaution.
I'd also like you to install a doorbell camera if you don't already have one, and I want you to keep a log — date, time, method of contact — for every attempt he makes to reach you directly."
"He'll say it wasn't a threat.
That I'm misreading it."
"They always say that." Robert's voice was dry.
"The court will read it in context."
He was right.
I knew he was right.
But knowing something and feeling safe are not the same thing, and for the next three days I checked the locks twice before bed and kept my phone on the nightstand with the volume up.
Daniel did not come to the house.
What he did instead was call his mother.
Patricia Calloway rang me on a Thursday evening.
I almost didn't answer.
But something — some instinct — made me pick up.
"Helen." Her voice was careful.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"You're not.
The girls are asleep."
"Good." A pause.
"I spoke to Daniel today."
"I assumed you had."
"He's frightened," she said.
"I want you to know I'm not calling to defend him.
I'm calling because he said something that concerned me, and I thought you should hear it."
I sat down.
"Go on."
"He mentioned a man.
Someone he described as a — contact.
Someone who could make paperwork disappear.
He said it as though he were thinking out loud, not as a direct statement, but—" She stopped.
"Helen, I've known my son for forty-four years.
He wasn't thinking out loud."
My hand tightened on the phone.
"He's talking about tampering with documents."
"I believe so.
Yes."
"Patricia." I kept my voice even.
"Why are you telling me this?"
She was quiet for a long moment.
"Because I watched him leave you in that hospital.
I watched him post those photographs.
I watched him walk into that airport with that woman, and I thought — I raised him better than this.
I know I did." Her voice didn't waver, but it thinned.
"And if he does something that makes everything worse — for himself, for those babies, for you — I won't be able to say I didn't know."
"I need to call Robert," I said.
"My solicitor."
"Yes.
You should."
"And Patricia — the trust.
The cottage."
"I've already spoken to my solicitor," she said.
"Daniel will not be receiving his trustee share while these proceedings are active.
It's been suspended."
I closed my eyes for a second.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me." Her voice was tired.
"Just protect those girls."
I called Robert the moment she hung up.
He filed an emergency notification with the compliance team and the regulator before midnight.
The next morning, Graham Holt called.
"We've been made aware of a potential attempt to interfere with evidence," he said.
"We've moved the key documents to secure storage and notified the CPS.
Mrs.
Calloway — does your home have adequate security?"
"I'm having a camera installed today," I said.
"Good.
I'd also suggest—"
"I know," I said.
"I'm not going anywhere alone."
For two days, nothing happened.
Then, on a Saturday afternoon, while my mother watched the girls and I sat in the garden with a cup of tea that had gone cold, Robert called.
"They've arrested him," he said.
"This morning.
Fraud, false accounting, and one count of attempting to pervert the course of justice."
I set the cup down on the garden table.
"His solicitor is already filing for bail," Robert said.
"It will likely be granted with conditions.
He won't be permitted to contact you directly."
"Okay," I said.
"Helen.
Are you all right?"
The garden was very quiet.
A bird was doing something in the hedge.
The afternoon light was the pale gold of early autumn.
"Yes," I said.
"I think I am."
"There's a long road ahead still.
The criminal proceedings will take time.
The divorce will run parallel."
"I know."
"But the worst of it — the part where he could move freely and threaten and manoeuvre — that part is done."
I looked at the cold tea.
At the hedge.
At the pale gold light.
"Robert," I said.
"When can I stop looking over my shoulder?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"Not yet.
But sooner than you think."
I stayed in the garden for a while after I hung up.
The bird in the hedge kept at whatever it was doing.
The light moved slowly across the lawn.
May you like
Inside, I could hear my mother talking to the girls in the low, rhythmic way she did when she was settling them — not quite words, just sound, the oldest comfort there is.
I picked up the cold tea and drank it anyway.
