Chapter 7: What Gerald Marsh Knew
I called him back from the bathroom with the door locked and the shower running to cover my voice.
He picked up on the first ring.
"Ms.
Vance.
Thank you for calling."
"How did you get this number?" I asked.
"A colleague of mine works in the county clerk's office.
Your name came up in connection with a property filing Arthur made last year.
I've been following Arthur Vance for a long time, and when a new name appears in his paperwork, I pay attention." A pause.
"I'm sorry if that sounds alarming.
I'm not trying to frighten you.
I'm trying to warn you."
"Warn me about what?"
"Arthur Vance has done this before."
The shower steam was filling the small bathroom.
I sat down on the edge of the tub.
"Done what before?"
"The dr*gging.
The isolation.
Waiting until the husband is away." Gerald's voice was steady, practiced — the voice of a man who had said difficult things many times.
"You're not the first daughter-in-law, Ms.
Vance.
You're the third."
My hand tightened on the phone.
"The first was a woman named Sandra.
Married his older son, Patrick, in 2009.
She left the marriage in 2011.
She tried to file a report but she had no physical evidence and Patrick didn't believe her.
The second was a woman named Diane.
Married a colleague of Arthur's, a man Arthur had mentored for years.
She disappeared from the situation quietly.
I believe she was paid to go away, but I was never able to prove it."
"Why are you the one looking into this?" I asked.
"Are you working for someone?"
"Sandra is my niece," he said simply.
The bathroom was very quiet except for the running water.
"I've spent four years trying to build a case.
The problem is that Arthur is careful.
He chooses moments when there are no witnesses.
He uses substances that clear the system quickly.
And the women he targets are always isolated — new to the family, dependent on a husband who trusts his father." Another pause.
"When I couldn't find enough for a criminal case, I started trying to reach the next woman before something happened.
I was too late for Diane.
I'm hoping I'm not too late for you."
"You're not too late," I said.
A silence.
"You have something," he said.
"I have a recording.
And a physical sample being tested at a lab right now."
Gerald Marsh didn't speak for a moment.
When he did, his voice had changed — not louder, but more concentrated.
"Ms.
Vance, I need you to listen to me carefully.
What you have could be enough.
But only if it's handled correctly.
You cannot confront Arthur directly.
You cannot tell David until you know where he stands.
And you need to get that recording into the hands of an attorney before anything else happens in that house."
"I have an attorney meeting Monday morning."
"Good." He exhaled.
"Good.
In the meantime, I'm going to send you what I have on Sandra's case.
Dates, locations, the name of the substance she believed was used.
If your lab results match, that establishes a pattern.
A pattern is what turns a he-said-she-said into a prosecutable case."
"Send it to this number?"
"Yes.
I'll send it tonight." He paused.
"Ms.
Vance — are you safe right now?
Is Arthur in the house?"
"He's downstairs," I said.
"My husband is home."
"All right.
Stay visible.
Don't be alone with Arthur again.
And call me after your attorney meeting."
"I will," I said.
"Mr.
Marsh — thank you."
"Thank Sandra," he said quietly.
"She's the one who never stopped pushing."
I ended the call and sat on the edge of the tub for another minute, the shower still running, the steam settling around me.
Three women.
Sandra, Diane, and now me.
And Evelyn had been there for all of it.
I turned off the shower and went back to the bedroom.
David was already in bed, reading, his glasses on, looking so ordinary and familiar that for a moment I felt the full weight of what I was carrying alone.
He looked up.
"Feel better?"
"A little," I said.
He went back to his book.
I got into bed beside him and turned off my lamp.
In the dark, I thought about Sandra.
Four years of trying.
Four years of no one believing her.
Monday, I told myself.
Hold until Monday.
Then my phone lit up on the nightstand.
A message from an unknown number.
May you like
Gerald's documents, arriving as promised.
I turned the phone face-down before David could see the screen.
