Chapter 4: The Name We Didn't Know
I drove home that night with the windows down, even though it was cold.
I needed the air.
I needed to think clearly.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, I had made a decision.
I wasn't going to confront Eric.
Not yet.
Confronting him now would only make him careful — and a careful liar is harder to catch than a confident one.
What I needed first was information.
I called my friend Pauline the next morning.
Pauline had worked in HR at a large company for thirty years before she retired, and she had a particular talent for finding things out without anyone knowing she was looking.
"I need to find out about someone," I told her.
"A woman named Dana.
Last initial W.
Possibly connected to Eric's company."
"What kind of connected?"
"That's what I need to know."
Pauline called me back that afternoon.
"There's a Dana Whitmore on the marketing team at Eric's firm," she said.
"Started about ten months ago.
Transferred from the Chicago office."
Ten months.
The messages went back eight.
"What else?" I asked.
"She's thirty-one.
Single.
Her LinkedIn shows her and Eric both attended a conference in Atlanta last spring." A pause.
"There are photos.
They're in the background of someone else's picture, but they're there."
I wrote down the name.
Dana Whitmore.
"Pauline.
Thank you."
"Be careful, Ruth," she said.
"Men like this — when they feel cornered, they don't get quiet."
I told Megan that evening.
She was still at the hotel.
I'd brought her a proper meal this time — something warm from the place she used to like near my house.
"Dana Whitmore," she repeated.
"Does the name mean anything to you?"
"He mentioned a Dana once.
Maybe six months ago.
Said she was new on his team.
Good at her job." Megan set down her fork.
"He said it so casually.
Like he was just making conversation."
"He was testing how you'd react."
She looked at me.
"You think he does that on purpose?"
"I think he's been doing it for a long time," I said.
"Saying just enough to see what he can get away with."
Megan was quiet.
Then: "I keep thinking about all the arguments we had.
The ones where I was upset about something and he made me feel like I was overreacting." She shook her head.
"Half of those arguments were probably about things he made up."
"I know."
"He told me once that you said I was too sensitive." Her voice was even, but her hands had gone still on the table.
"That you thought I made everything about my feelings."
I looked at her directly.
"Megan.
I have never once thought that about you."
She nodded slowly.
Her eyes were bright but she didn't cry.
"I'm starting to understand," she said, "that I never really knew what you thought about me at all.
Everything I believed came through him."
We sat with that for a moment.
"What about Chloe?" Megan asked.
"She called you.
She knew something was wrong."
"She's perceptive," I said.
"She's been watching her parents for years.
Children notice the things adults think they're hiding."
"I need to talk to her."
"Not yet.
Not until we know more.
If Eric thinks you're communicating with Chloe about this, he'll use it."
Megan's expression shifted.
Something hardened behind her eyes.
"He'd use our daughter."
"He already has been," I said quietly.
"Telling her you were at Jessica's.
Sending her back to her room when she wouldn't leave me."
Megan pushed back her chair and stood up.
She walked to the window and stood with her back to me for a moment.
"I want to go home," she said.
"I want to walk back in and look him in the face and ask him about Dana Whitmore and watch what he does."
"I know."
"But you're going to tell me not to."
"Not yet," I said.
"Give me three more days."
She turned around.
"Why three days?"
"Because I want to know what he does when he thinks he's winning."
Her phone buzzed on the table.
Another text from Eric.
May you like
She didn't even look at it.
"Three days," she said.
