Chapter 8: Possibly Tonight
Patrice arrived at 3:47.
She came in through the front door carrying a canvas tote bag and a box of tea like she was dropping by after errands.
If anyone was watching, that's exactly what it looked like.
I had the folder on the table.
The laptop open.
The USB drive plugged in.
She sat down, pulled reading glasses from her bag, and went through everything without speaking.
The notes from both pies.
The printed bank statements.
The article about Susan Mercer.
The audio files.
The video of Carol at the door with her coat on.
When the video ended, she took her glasses off.
"Three years," she said.
"Seventeen folders."
"And he has no idea she has any of this."
"As far as we know."
Patrice tapped the edge of the folder against the table, straightening the pages.
"The recordings are admissible in this state — it's a one-party consent jurisdiction, meaning she only needed her own consent to record conversations she was part of.
The financial documentation establishes a pattern of economic control.
The prior incident with Susan Mercer, if we can get a statement from her, establishes a history of the same behavior with a different victim." She set the folder down.
"This is a strong file, Carol.
This is a very strong file."
"She's not here," I said.
"I know.
I'm talking to you because you're the one who has to understand what we're working with before we walk over there." She looked at me directly.
"Here's the problem.
He already knows she was in this house.
He's surveilling you.
If he gets any indication that a lawyer has been involved, he may move to lock things down — cancel accounts, move money, take her phone, restrict Danny's movements.
These men don't always escalate to physical violence.
Sometimes they escalate to control.
And a tighter cage is harder to escape than a loose one."
"So we move tonight."
"I think we have to at least have the conversation with her tonight.
The decision is hers." Patrice put her glasses back in her bag.
"Does she have somewhere to go?
Family?"
"A sister.
He's kept them apart for years.
She doesn't know if the sister would—"
"Let me handle the sister." Patrice pulled out her own phone.
"I have contacts at two domestic shelter organizations in this region.
If the sister can't take her tonight, we have options.
But I need Carol in this room."
I texted Danny's school number.
*Is your dad home yet?*
The reply came in under a minute.
*No.
Mom is making dinner.
She keeps checking the clock.*
*I'm going to knock on your back door in five minutes.
I'll have something in my hands.
Tell your mom.*
*Ok.*
I found a paperback on my shelf — the first one I touched — and walked across the yards to their back door.
I knocked twice.
Carol opened it almost immediately.
She was still in the cardigan.
She had an apron on now, and there was something on the stove behind her that smelled like onions.
"I thought you might want this back," I said, holding up the book.
Loud enough to be heard if anyone was listening.
"You mentioned it at dinner."
She hadn't mentioned any book at dinner.
But she took it without missing a beat.
"Thank you," she said.
Then, quietly: "Is she here?"
"At my kitchen table."
She looked back into her house.
The stove.
The clock on the microwave.
Then she untied the apron and set it on the counter.
"Danny," she called.
"Watch the pot.
Don't let it boil over."
His voice came from somewhere upstairs.
"Okay."
She stepped outside and pulled the door almost closed behind her.
We walked across the yards without speaking.
Patrice stood up when Carol came in.
She didn't introduce herself as a lawyer.
She just said her name and shook Carol's hand and said, "Sit down.
We have time."
Carol sat.
She looked at the folder on the table.
Then at Patrice.
"You've seen everything," she said.
It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Patrice said.
"And I want you to know — what you built over three years is extraordinary.
Most people in your situation have nothing.
You have everything."
Carol looked at her hands again.
"I didn't know if anyone would believe me."
"They'll believe you," Patrice said.
"I promise you that." She leaned forward slightly.
"Carol, I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly, not bravely.
Are you safe tonight?"
Carol was quiet for a moment.
"I don't know," she said.
"He knows something is different.
I can feel it."
Patrice nodded once.
"Then I think we need to talk about getting you and Danny out of that house before he comes home."
Carol looked up.
Her eyes were dry.
May you like
Her hands were still.
"Tell me what that looks like," she said.
