Chapter 4: The Woman Who Knew Too Much
I stared at that message for a long time.
The number had a Minneapolis area code but I didn't recognize it.
I typed back one word: *Who is this?*
Three dots appeared.
Then stopped.
Then appeared again.
*My name is Sandra.
I was your nanny before you let me go.
I know what happened in that apartment.
I've known for a long time.
I'm sorry I waited this long to say something.*
I sat up.
Sandra.
I remembered her clearly — a quiet woman in her late forties, reliable, always early, always kind to Daisy.
We had let her go in March when Mitchell said we couldn't afford her anymore.
He had handled the whole thing himself.
I had felt terrible about it but Mitchell had said it was just finances.
I typed: *How did you get this number?*
*Your sister Carol gave it to me.
She called me twenty minutes ago.
She said you needed to hear what I know.*
Carol had moved fast.
*Can we meet tomorrow?* I typed.
*Yes.
There's a diner on Hennepin, the one near the library.
Nine in the morning.
Come alone.
Don't tell Mitchell.*
I almost typed back that I had already blocked Mitchell.
Instead I just wrote: *I'll be there.*
I didn't sleep after that.
By eight the next morning I had Daisy dressed and fed and dropped at Carol's apartment.
Carol opened the door, took one look at my face, and pulled me into a hug without saying a word.
"The lawyer's name is Patricia Howe," Carol said when she let go.
"She does family law.
I've already emailed her the footage.
She's expecting your call this afternoon."
"You did all of that overnight?"
"You're my little sister," Carol said simply.
"Go meet Sandra.
Call me after."
Sandra was already at the diner when I arrived, seated at a corner table with both hands wrapped around a coffee cup.
She looked older than I remembered.
Tired in a specific way that had nothing to do with sleep.
"Thank you for coming," she said.
I sat down across from her.
"Tell me what you know."
She looked at the table for a moment.
Then she looked up.
"Before you married Mitchell, he was engaged to another woman.
Her name was Diane.
She had money — real money, from her family.
They were together for two years." Sandra paused.
"Beatrice never liked her either.
But Diane had a brother who was a lawyer, and when things went wrong, she had someone to fight for her."
"What went wrong?"
"Money went missing from Diane's account.
Not a small amount.
Enough that she noticed, enough that she confronted Mitchell." Sandra's hands tightened around the cup.
"He told her she was confused.
That she had spent it herself and forgotten.
Beatrice backed him up.
Brenda backed him up.
Diane started to believe she was losing her mind."
Something cold moved through me.
"She didn't lose her mind," I said.
"No.
She didn't.
Her brother hired someone to look at the accounts.
Mitchell had been siphoning money out for eight months — small amounts at first, then larger ones.
When Diane's brother confronted him with the paperwork, Mitchell threatened to tell people Diane had a drinking problem.
That she was unstable." Sandra's jaw tightened.
"Diane was so ashamed she agreed to a quiet settlement and walked away.
No charges.
No record.
Nothing."
I thought about the eleven thousand dollars.
The savings account.
Three months.
"He's doing the same thing to me," I said.
"Yes."
"How long have you known this?"
Sandra looked down at her coffee.
"I found out about Diane from a friend who knew her.
About six months after I started working for you.
I didn't know what to do with it.
I told myself it wasn't my business." She finally looked up.
"Then I watched what they did to Daisy on that last day before you came home.
I was in the hallway.
I heard everything.
I should have called you that same night.
I'm sorry I didn't."
The waitress came and refilled her cup.
Neither of us spoke until she left.
"I need you to say all of this to a lawyer," I said.
"I know." Sandra reached into her bag and placed a folded envelope on the table.
"Diane's brother's name and number are in there.
He kept copies of everything.
He said if Mitchell ever did it again, he wanted to know."
I picked up the envelope.
"He's been waiting," Sandra said quietly, "for someone to call."
My phone buzzed.
A message from Mitchell, from a new number since I had blocked the last one.
*Valerie.
We need to talk.
I know you're upset but you're making this into something it isn't.
Call me.
For Daisy's sake.*
I turned the phone face-down on the table.
"For Daisy's sake," I said, almost to myself.
May you like
Sandra watched me.
"He used those exact words with Diane too," she said.
