Chapter 6: The Other Side of the Lie
I sat in my car at the end of Eric's street and read the message three times.
Then I called Megan.
"Dana Whitmore just texted me," I said.
Silence.
"How does she have your number?"
"I don't know yet."
"What does she want?"
"She says she wants to talk." I looked at the message again.
"I think we should let her."
Another silence, longer this time.
"Ruth.
What if this is Eric?
What if he's testing us?"
It was a fair question.
I thought about it.
"If it's Eric, then we say nothing and we lose nothing.
But if it's actually her —"
"Then she might know things we don't."
"Yes."
Megan exhaled.
"Meet her," she said.
"Don't tell her about me yet.
Just listen."
I texted Dana back and suggested a coffee shop near my house the following morning.
She replied within two minutes.
*I'll be there.
Thank you.*
She was already seated when I arrived — a young woman in her early thirties, dark hair, neatly dressed, both hands wrapped around a coffee cup like she needed something to hold onto.
She stood when she saw me.
"Mrs.
—"
"Ruth," I said.
"Just Ruth."
We sat down.
She looked like she hadn't slept well either.
"I need to explain how I got your number," she said immediately.
"Eric mentioned you once.
He had your contact in his phone and I — I know how that sounds.
I'm not proud of it."
"Why did you want to reach me?"
She looked down at her cup.
"Because I didn't know," she said.
"About his wife.
About any of it."
I kept my voice even.
"Tell me what you mean."
"When I met Eric, he told me he was separated.
That his marriage had been over for more than a year.
That he was just waiting until the right time to make it official because of his daughter." She looked up.
"I believed him.
He was so convincing.
He had a whole story — that his wife had checked out, that his mother had stopped coming around because she couldn't stand the tension in the house anymore —"
My jaw tightened.
"He told you that."
"He said you'd basically given up on the family." She held my gaze.
"I'm sorry.
I know now that wasn't true."
"When did you find out?"
"Three weeks ago.
A friend of mine saw him at a restaurant with a woman and a little girl.
He introduced them as his wife and daughter." Her voice stayed steady but her knuckles had gone white around the cup.
"He didn't know my friend knew me."
I sat back.
"Did you confront him?"
"I tried.
He told me my friend had misunderstood.
That it was complicated.
That he was handling it." She shook her head.
"That was when I started to realize how many things he'd said that I'd just — accepted.
Without questioning."
"What kinds of things?"
"He told me his wife was unstable.
That she'd threatened to take his daughter away from him if he tried to leave.
That he was scared of what she might do." Dana set down her cup.
"He made her sound like someone I should feel sorry for him because of."
I thought of Megan alone in that hotel room, barely eating, convinced that everyone had turned against her.
"She's not unstable," I said.
"She's been lied to.
Same as you."
Dana was quiet for a moment.
"I ended it the day he made that excuse about the restaurant.
But then I started thinking about his wife.
About what she must be going through.
Whether she even knew." She looked at me directly.
"Does she know about me?"
"Yes."
"Is she okay?"
"She's getting there."
Dana reached into her bag and put a folded piece of paper on the table.
"I printed these before I ended it," she said.
"Messages where he talks about his plans.
What he intended to do with the house.
With the finances." She pushed the paper toward me.
"I don't know if it helps.
But I thought someone should have it."
I unfolded the paper slowly.
The first message was dated four months ago.
*Once she's gone, the house goes in my name.
She won't fight it.
She doesn't have the stomach for it.*
My hand was very still on the paper.
"Thank you, Dana," I said.
She nodded.
She looked younger suddenly, and tired, and genuinely ashamed.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"For my part in it.
Even the part I didn't know about."
"You didn't know," I said.
"He made sure of that."
She left first.
I sat alone with the printed messages and finished my coffee.
Then I called Megan.
"He was planning to take the house," I said.
May you like
A long pause.
"Then we need to move faster than he is," she said.
