Chapter 7: Evelyn Makes Her Move
She released it on a Thursday.
The statement from Diane Marsh appeared in an email sent to Grant's two brothers, his aunt, three family friends, and — I found out later — the senior partner at Grant's firm.
The email came from an address I didn't recognize, but the writing was Evelyn's.
Formal.
Measured.
Every sentence placed with care.
It said that she had long harbored concerns about the circumstances of Maddie's conception.
It said she had, regrettably, come into possession of a sworn statement from a clinic employee confirming that I had made specific requests designed to conceal the identity of Maddie's biological father.
It said she was sharing this information not out of malice but out of love for her son and concern for the integrity of the family.
It was beautifully written.
It was also completely false.
Grant showed it to me that evening.
He sat across from me at the kitchen table and held out his phone.
I read it once.
Then I set the phone down.
"She sent it to your firm," I said.
"Yes."
"To the senior partner."
"Yes."
"Okay." I stood up and went to the counter and poured a glass of water.
"Carol told me to wait for her to move first.
She moved."
"Rachel—"
"I'm not angry, Grant." I turned around.
"I was angry six years ago when your mother looked at Maddie like she was something that had crawled in from outside.
I was angry when you let her.
I've had a long time to move through angry." I set the glass down.
"Now I'm just going to finish it."
I called Carol that night.
She had already received a forwarded copy from one of Grant's brothers, who had thought she should know.
"She made a mistake," Carol said.
"Distributing a document containing false claims to third parties — that's defamation.
Potentially tortious interference if it affects Grant's employment.
And it gives us grounds to move on Diane Marsh directly."
"Can we subpoena her?"
"We can.
And I want to." Carol paused.
"I also want to move on the photograph.
I've had someone look at it.
The metadata was stripped, but the building in the background is confirmed as Holt's former office.
I want to know why you were there."
"I've never been inside that building," I said.
"I know.
But you were on that street."
"I bought coffee there.
There's a café two doors down.
I went there maybe once a month for two years."
"So someone knew your routine," Carol said.
"They waited.
They put Daniel Marsh near you and took the photo." She let that settle.
"Rachel, I want to depose Evelyn."
The deposition was scheduled for the following Tuesday.
Evelyn arrived with her own attorney, a man named Stafford who had the practiced calm of someone who had spent forty years making problems disappear.
He shook Carol's hand with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Evelyn sat across the table from me for the first time since I had taken the envelope from her house.
She looked composed.
She had worn a grey jacket.
Her hands were folded on the table.
Carol began with the basics.
Name.
Address.
Relationship to Grant Calloway.
Relationship to Rachel Calloway.
Relationship to the child known as Maddie Calloway.
Then: "Mrs.
Calloway, when did you first meet Dr.
Warren Holt?"
Stafford leaned toward Evelyn.
She shook her head slightly.
"Approximately forty years ago," she said.
"He was my physician."
"In what capacity?"
"Fertility treatment."
"And you maintained a personal relationship with Dr.
Holt after your treatment concluded?"
"A professional acquaintance.
Nothing more."
"Were you aware, at the time you recommended Dr.
Holt to your son and daughter-in-law, that Dr.
Holt had used his own biological material in your fertility treatment without your consent?"
Stafford's hand came up.
"Objection to the characterization—"
"This is a deposition, Mr.
Stafford," Carol said pleasantly.
"You can note your objection.
Mrs.
Calloway, please answer."
Evelyn's jaw was tight.
"I was not aware of any such thing."
"When did you become aware?"
A pause.
"Some years ago."
"How many years?"
"I don't recall exactly."
"Before or after your son's marriage to Rachel?"
Evelyn looked at the table.
"Before."
The room was very quiet.
"And you still recommended Dr.
Holt to them."
"I believed the situation in my case was an isolated—"
"You believed," Carol said, "or you hoped?"
Stafford objected again.
Carol moved on.
May you like
But the answer was already in the room.
Evelyn's hands, still folded on the table, had gone white at the knuckles.
