Chapter 5: What Donna Knew
The paper had a phone number and four words written beneath it.
*He does this twice.*
I read it three times before I called Dana back.
She arrived twenty minutes later, still in her coat.
I handed her the note without explanation.
She read it.
Then she sat down.
"Donna Harren," Dana said.
"Gerald's ex-wife.
They divorced eight years ago.
The settlement was sealed."
"You already knew about her."
"I knew she existed.
I didn't know she'd reached out to you." Dana set the note on the bed between us.
"If she's willing to talk, this changes things significantly."
"What does 'he does this twice' mean?"
"It means," Dana said carefully, "that you may not be the first."
I called the number that evening, from the hospital phone at Dana's insistence — my own phone was still being reviewed as part of the evidence chain.
Donna answered on the second ring.
She was direct.
No preamble, no softening.
The voice of a woman who had already spent her emotion on this particular subject and come out the other side.
"I heard what happened to you," she said.
"Patricia has been my friend for fifteen years.
She called me the night you came in."
"The night I came in," I repeated.
"That was three days ago."
"Yes."
"You've known for three days."
"I wanted to see if you'd actually do it," Donna said.
"A lot of women don't.
They take the settlement.
They sign the paper.
They disappear." A pause.
"I did."
"What happened to you?"
She was quiet for a moment.
Not reluctant — gathering.
"Gerald and I were married for six years.
The first two were fine.
Then his mother decided she didn't like me.
And Gerald — Gerald always did what Celina wanted.
Always.
From the time he was a boy." Another pause.
"I didn't end up with a broken leg.
But I ended up with nothing.
They moved money.
They isolated me from my friends.
They made me feel like I was losing my mind.
And when I finally left, Gerald used his position to make sure the divorce proceedings were handled by a colleague.
I got the sealed settlement and a very clear message that if I talked, I would regret it."
"Did they ever threaten you directly?"
"Gerald doesn't make direct threats," Donna said.
"He makes suggestions.
He says things like *be careful* and *you don't want this to go further* and *I'd hate for this to become complicated.* He said all of those things to me.
I imagine he said some of them to you today."
The phone felt heavy in my hand.
"He said 'be very careful,'" I said.
"There it is."
"Donna.
The note said he does this twice.
What does that mean?"
She exhaled slowly.
"After me, there was another woman.
Her name is Renata.
She was involved with Gerald — not married, but close enough.
She tried to report him to the judicial conduct board two years ago.
The complaint was dismissed.
She moved away after that."
"Do you know where she is?"
"I do," Donna said.
"And she's willing to talk.
She's been waiting for someone to give her a reason."
I looked at the ceiling of the hospital room.
The fluorescent light hummed.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked.
"After eight years.
Why now?"
Donna didn't hesitate.
"Because Celina br0ke your leg and Luke left you on the floor, and Gerald called you within hours of the arrest to offer you a house and tell you to be quiet." Her voice was steady and absolutely cold.
"And because I took the house.
And I have regretted it every single day since."
We talked for another forty minutes.
By the time I set the phone down, I had three names — Donna, Renata, and a former colleague of Gerald's who had left the courthouse under circumstances that had never been fully explained.
Dana was still there.
She had been writing the entire time.
"This is bigger than Luke and Celina," I said.
"Yes."
"Gerald has been running this.
From the beginning."
"That's what the evidence is starting to suggest."
I thought about the green notebook in the evidence bag.
The dates going back four years.
The transfers starting eleven months into my marriage — almost exactly when Celina had first started making comments about my job, my independence, my habit of keeping my own bank account.
"He planned it," I said.
"Gerald helped them plan it.
The financial control, the isolation, the story about me falling down the stairs — all of it."
"We don't have proof of Gerald's direct involvement yet," Dana said.
"But we have three witnesses who can establish a pattern.
And a sealed divorce settlement that a judge two counties over is going to find very interesting."
She closed her folder and stood.
"Get some sleep," she said.
"Tomorrow is going to be a long day."
She was almost out the door when I thought of something.
"Dana.
The notebook — the financial records.
Luke kept them.
Why would he keep records of something illegal?"
She paused with her hand on the door frame.
"That's the right question," she said.
"I've been thinking about it since this morning."
"And?"
"I think Luke kept that notebook because he was afraid of Gerald too."
The door closed behind her.
I lay in the dark for a long time after that, listening to the sounds of the hospital corridor outside.
Somewhere down the hall, a television was on.
Somewhere closer, a monitor beeped steadily.
Luke was afraid of Gerald.
Which meant Gerald had leverage over his own brother.
Which meant the notebook wasn't just evidence against Luke and Celina.
May you like
It was Luke's insurance policy.
And now it was mine.
