Chapter 8: The Call
I answered it.
I did not speak first.
I waited.
"Nathan." His voice was exactly as I remembered it.
Easy.
Warm.
The voice of a man who had spent thirty years making people feel comfortable.
"I think we should talk."
"I'm listening," I said.
"Not like this.
In person.
Just the two of us." A pause.
"I know how this looks.
I know what Vanessa has told you.
But there are things she hasn't told you — things about herself, about what she was actually planning — and I think you deserve to hear them from me directly."
"You want to give me information about Vanessa."
"I want to tell you the truth," he said.
"Yes."
I looked at the closed front door.
"Where?" I said.
"The pub on Clarence Street.
Tonight.
Seven o'clock."
"I'll be there," I said.
I hung up.
Priya was watching me from the stairs.
"You're not actually going alone," she said.
"No," I said.
"I'm going to call DS Okafor first.
And then I'm going to go."
"Dad—"
"He's going to try to separate himself from Vanessa," I said.
"He's going to try to make himself the witness and her the villain.
He's going to offer me something — information, or an apology, or a version of events that puts him on the right side." I picked up my jacket from the hook by the door.
"And while he's doing that, I'm going to let him talk."
"And if he's recording you?"
"Then he'll have a recording of me saying nothing useful." I looked at my daughter.
"I spent eleven years in business with people who lied to my face, Priya.
I know what it looks like when someone is building a defence."
She stood up from the step.
"I'm coming," she said.
"You're staying here with the baby and with Rosa."
"Dad—"
"Priya." I said it gently.
"You've already done more than I can repay.
You found the note.
You found the footage.
You stayed up all night to make sure I knew the truth." I looked at her.
"Let me do this part."
She was quiet for a moment.
"Call me," she said.
"The second you're out."
"I will."
DS Okafor answered on the first ring.
I told her about the call.
She was quiet for a moment.
"Don't agree to anything," she said.
"Don't sign anything.
Don't make any promises about what you will or won't do legally.
Just listen."
"That's exactly what I intend to do."
Another pause.
"Mr.
Adeyemi," she said.
"We brought Daniel Forsythe in for a voluntary interview this morning.
He declined to answer most questions.
But he did say one thing that I think you should know before you meet him tonight."
"What did he say?"
"He said the stroller incident was Vanessa's idea.
He said he told her not to do it.
He said he was trying to end the arrangement and she wouldn't let him."
I stood very still in my hallway.
"Do you believe him?" I said.
"I believe he's trying to position himself," she said.
"Whether any of it is true is what we're still working out." She paused.
"But Nathan — if he's telling the truth about even part of it, then what Vanessa was willing to do is worse than what the footage already shows."
I thought about the stroller at the top of the stairs.
One finger.
Slow.
"I'll call you after," I said.
The pub on Clarence Street was half empty when I arrived.
Daniel was already there, at a corner table, two glasses of water in front of him.
No alcohol.
He had thought about that too.
He stood when he saw me.
Reached out his hand.
I sat down without taking it.
His hand dropped.
He sat.
"Thank you for coming," he said.
May you like
"Talk," I said.
He talked.
