Chapter 8: The Attorney
Her name was Patricia Holt, and she met us — me and Nora — in a small conference room on the fourth floor of an office building on Wilson Boulevard.
She was in her early fifties, with reading glasses pushed up on her head and a yellow legal pad already open on the table.
She listened to the recording twice without stopping it.
When it finished the second time, she set her pen down.
"How long have you been married to David Vance?"
"Two years."
"And in those two years, prior to Friday night, had Arthur Vance ever physically touched you without your consent?"
"Three times that I can name.
He called them accidents."
"Did you report any of them?"
"I told David once.
He said his father was old-fashioned."
Patricia wrote something on her pad.
"And Evelyn Vance — you believe she was in Virginia on Friday night, not Richmond?"
"She texted me from a Richmond area code at 11:47 p.m.
But the voice on that recording is hers.
And she told Arthur to come downstairs and wait until morning.
She wasn't managing a situation she'd just heard about.
She was managing a situation she already knew was happening."
"That's a meaningful distinction," Patricia said.
She looked at Nora.
"The physical sample?"
"At the lab now," Nora said.
"Preliminary results in forty-eight hours.
Full panel in five days."
"I also have documents from a retired detective named Gerald Marsh." I slid a printed folder across the table.
"He's been investigating Arthur for four years.
Two prior victims.
One is his niece.
The other left quietly — he believes she was paid."
Patricia opened the folder and read for two full minutes without speaking.
Then she looked up.
"Rebecca, I want to be honest with you about where this stands.
The recording is strong.
The pattern evidence from Marsh is significant.
The lab results, if they confirm a sedative, will be critical." She folded her hands on the table.
"But I also want you to understand that Arthur Vance is a retired school principal with community standing and no criminal record.
His attorney — and he will have a very good one — will argue that the recording is ambiguous, that Evelyn was simply trying to calm down a confused husband, and that the glass could have been contaminated by anything."
"So it's not enough," I said.
"It may not be enough on its own," she said.
"What would make it enough is David."
I looked at her.
"If David believes you, and if he is willing to say publicly that he was told about his father's behavior before and dismissed it, that changes the character of the case significantly.
It shows a pattern of the family protecting Arthur at the expense of the women who married into it." She paused.
"The question is whether David will stand with you or with his parents."
The room was quiet.
"I don't know yet," I said.
"Then that is the next thing you need to find out." She picked up her pen.
"I'm going to file for a protective order against Arthur Vance today, based on the recording and your statement.
That gives you legal standing and creates an official record.
It also means Arthur will be served, and when he is served, everything changes." She looked at me steadily.
"Are you ready for that?"
I thought about the kitchen.
Arthur folding his newspaper.
*Family is family.*
"Yes," I said.
"File it."
Patricia nodded and began writing.
Nora reached under the table and squeezed my hand once.
I didn't look at her.
I kept my eyes on Patricia's pen moving across the yellow page.
Outside the window, Arlington was going about its Monday morning.
People with coffee.
May you like
People with dogs.
People who did not know that in a small conference room on the fourth floor, a woman was signing her name to a document that was about to change everything inside a house that looked, from the outside, completely perfect.
