Chapter 8: What the Investigator Found
The PI's name was Greta Sands.
She was in her mid-fifties, plain-spoken, and she had worked family protection cases for twenty years.
Paul had used her before.
She came to my house on a Tuesday evening, sat at the kitchen table with a folder and a cup of tea she actually drank, and told me what she had found in four days of surveillance.
"He's staying in a short-let flat about two miles from here," she said.
"He moved in five weeks ago.
Before that he was in Bristol.
He relocated specifically — I've confirmed that with the letting agency records."
"He moved here to be close to Lily."
"That's how I read it." She opened the folder.
"He's been to the school street twice since the order was served.
He doesn't go within the three hundred meters.
He stops just outside it.
Stands for a few minutes.
Leaves."
"That's a violation."
"It's borderline.
The order specifies the school premises.
The street is arguable.
His solicitor would argue it." She slid a photograph across the table.
"But this is less arguable."
The photograph showed a man standing at the corner of my street.
Not outside my house.
Four houses down, on the opposite pavement.
Looking toward my front door.
The timestamp read six forty-seven in the morning.
Three days ago.
"He was here," I said.
"Once that I've documented.
Possibly more.
I've only had eyes on him for four days."
"That's within three hundred meters of my home address."
"Yes.
Unambiguously." She slid a second photograph across.
Same man, same corner, slightly different angle.
"I have him on camera for eleven minutes.
He left when a neighbor came out to put their bins out."
I looked at the photographs.
I had seen pictures of Daniel Voss before — Claire had shown me once, years ago, when she was explaining the history.
He was ordinary-looking.
Medium height, dark coat, the kind of face that wouldn't register in a crowd.
That was the thing that frightened me most.
He looked like no one.
"I'm taking these to Paul today," I said.
"I've already sent him the digital copies.
He's filing for a contempt hearing." Greta closed her folder.
"Mr.
Calloway.
I want to say something that's slightly outside my professional brief."
"Go ahead."
"He's escalating carefully.
Each step is just small enough to be deniable on its own.
The school street.
This corner.
The phone call.
The paternity filing.
Individually, each one is manageable.
Together, they're a pattern." She looked at me steadily.
"He's testing how much he can do before someone stops him.
You need to stop him completely, not just respond to each individual step."
"How?"
"The contempt hearing is the first real pressure.
If the judge takes it seriously — and with this photograph, they should — he faces a fine or a custodial sentence.
That changes his calculation." She paused.
"But I'd also recommend you speak to Lily's school about a permanent photo and description alert at the gate.
Not just a flag on her file.
An actual briefing with the staff who are physically at the gate each morning."
"Dr.
Osei will do that."
"Good." She stood and picked up her folder.
"I'll keep watching him.
If he comes back to this street, I'll have it within the hour."
After she left I sat at the table for a while.
Then I went upstairs.
Lily's light was still on.
I knocked.
"Come in."
She was in bed with the stuffed rabbit and a library book about dolphins.
She looked up.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
"Everything's okay," I said.
"I just wanted to say goodnight."
She held the rabbit up briefly, as though introducing it.
"Rabbit says goodnight too."
I turned off her light.
I stood in the doorway for a moment in the dark.
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"You're going to fix it, aren't you."
It wasn't quite a question.
May you like
"Yes," I said.
"I am."
