Chapter 8: Linda's Side
I stared at the message for a long time.
Jason read it over my shoulder.
"Forward it to Paulson," he said.
I did.
Then I sat there with the phone in my hand, thinking about Linda Harris.
The lasagna.
The way she had looked genuinely startled when she mentioned the basement room — that flash of something across her face before she covered it with the explanation about Margaret's sewing room.
I had read that as guilt at the time.
Now I wasn't sure.
Paulson called back within minutes.
"Don't respond yet," he said.
"I want to think about this."
"Do you think she's genuine?"
"I think there are two possibilities.
Either Linda Harris is a co-conspirator trying to get information about what you've told us.
Or she's a woman who has been living next to something she didn't fully understand for a very long time and is now frightened." A pause.
"In my experience, both things can be true at once."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing tonight.
Tomorrow morning, if she contacts you again, respond with one sentence: 'I think you should speak to a lawyer.' That's it.
Nothing more."
I agreed and ended the call.
But Linda didn't wait until morning.
An hour later, there was a soft knock at the back door — the one that faced the side yard between our two houses.
Not the front door.
The back.
Jason and I looked at each other.
I pulled up the back door camera.
Linda was standing there alone, without a coat despite the cold, her arms wrapped around herself.
She looked smaller than I had ever seen her.
Jason shook his head.
I opened the door anyway.
She looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"I'm so sorry to come to your back door.
I didn't want Tom to see."
"Linda," I said carefully.
"You should have a lawyer present before you talk to anyone."
"I know." She pressed her lips together.
"I know that.
I just — I needed to say something to a real person.
Not a detective.
Not a lawyer.
Just a person."
I stepped back.
She came inside.
We sat at the kitchen table.
Jason stayed standing near the counter, arms folded.
Linda kept her hands wrapped around the mug of tea I put in front of her without really thinking about it.
"I didn't know everything," she said.
"I want you to understand that.
I knew Tom had made some bad decisions with money.
I knew there were people who were angry with him.
But I didn't know how bad it was until about two years ago."
"What happened two years ago?" I asked.
"A woman called the house.
One of the investors.
Her name was Ruth.
She was seventy-one years old and she called our house and she was crying." Linda's voice broke slightly.
"She said she had lost everything.
She said her husband was sick and they had nothing left and she just wanted to know why." Linda looked down at the mug.
"Tom took the phone from me.
He went into the other room.
I don't know what he said to her."
"Did you ask him?"
"He said she was confused.
That she had misunderstood the investment terms.
That he was going to sort it out." She looked up.
"I wanted to believe him.
I had been believing him for thirty-five years.
It's — it becomes a habit."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"Why did you go to our house?" Jason asked.
His voice was level, not unkind, but direct.
"On Sunday.
While we were away."
Linda closed her eyes.
"He told me there was something in the basement that belonged to him.
Something Margaret had taken without permission.
He said if we could get it back, everything would be fine.
He said it was just old paperwork." She opened her eyes.
"I knew that wasn't true.
But I went anyway."
"Did you find it?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"We looked.
Tom knew roughly where it should be but he couldn't find the exact spot.
He was getting frustrated.
I told him we needed to leave." She looked at me.
"I'm the one who said we had to go.
He wanted to keep looking."
I thought about the camera footage.
Linda shaking her head.
Tom stepping back from the door.
She had been the one to pull him away.
"Linda," I said.
"You need to call a lawyer tonight.
Before you say anything else to anyone."
She nodded slowly.
"I know." She stood, still holding the mug with both hands.
"I just needed someone to know that I'm not — I didn't want any of this." She set the mug down.
"Ruth called our house and she was crying and I did nothing.
I've thought about that every day since."
She let herself out the back door.
Jason and I stood in the kitchen listening to her footsteps cross the side yard.
"She's going to cooperate," Jason said quietly.
"Yes," I said.
My phone was already in my hand.
I called Paulson and told him everything.
"Good," he said, when I finished.
"That's very good." A pause.
May you like
"Get some sleep, Claire.
Tomorrow is going to be a long day."
