Chapter 8: Monday Morning
Carol Simms called at eight forty-seven on Monday morning.
I was in the kitchen making Emily's lunch for school.
Emily was at the table, eating toast and reading a book about deep-sea fish that she had checked out from the library on Friday, before any of this had happened, in a version of last week that felt very far away now.
"Gerald Foss filed the withdrawal this morning," Carol said.
"The court has acknowledged receipt.
The petition is formally void."
"That's done, then."
"The forgery question is still open.
That's your decision and there's no deadline pressure.
But I want you to know the documentation is solid.
The signature comparison, the false authorization, the misrepresentation to the notary.
If you decide to pursue it, the foundation is there."
"I understand."
"How is Emily?"
I looked at her across the kitchen.
She had turned a page and was frowning slightly at a photograph of an anglerfish.
"She's reading about deep-sea fish," I said.
Carol made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh but was close to one.
"Good.
That's good."
After I hung up, I finished making the sandwich and put it in Emily's bag.
Then I sat down across from her.
She looked up from the book.
"Was that the lady from the chapel?" she asked.
"Yes.
Carol.
She called to say everything is sorted."
Emily nodded and looked back at the book.
"Emily."
She looked up again.
"The number you called.
The safeguarding number from your school folder."
"Yes."
"You've had that folder since September."
"Yes."
"Did you look at that number before Saturday?"
She considered this with the careful honesty she applied to most things.
"I looked at it when we got the folder.
The teacher said it was for if something ever felt wrong and we didn't know who to tell."
"And on Saturday it felt wrong."
"Rebecca gave me the note on Thursday," she said.
"She said I should read it so I understood what was going to happen and didn't make a fuss.
She said you had already decided." She paused.
"But you said no when I asked.
So I knew she was lying."
"You knew on Thursday."
"Yes.
But I didn't want to tell you before the wedding in case I was wrong about something.
In case there was a part I didn't understand." She looked at the anglerfish again.
"I thought if I told Carol, then Carol could check, and if I was wrong, you wouldn't have to know I was worried."
I sat with that for a moment.
"You were protecting me," I said.
"I was trying to." She turned another page.
"Was that okay?"
"That was more than okay," I said.
"But Emily — you can always come to me.
Whatever is happening.
Whatever you're worried about.
You don't have to find another way around it."
She looked up at me.
"Even if it might ruin something?"
"Even then."
She thought about this seriously, the way she thought about most things.
"Okay," she said.
"I'll remember that."
She went back to her book.
I watched her for a moment — the small frown of concentration, the way she traced a finger under a caption she wanted to read twice — and felt something settle in my chest that had been loose and rattling since Saturday morning.
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
*You've made a very costly mistake.
I hope Emily is worth it to you.
She will be the one who pays for your stubbornness in the end.*
I read it twice.
Then I forwarded it to Carol Simms with one line: *From Rebecca.
Timestamp 9:03 AM Monday.*
Carol replied in four minutes: *Screenshot and save.
This changes things.*
I set the phone face-down on the table.
"Dad?" Emily said, without looking up from her book.
"Yes?"
"The anglerfish uses a light to attract things toward it," she said.
"And then it eats them."
"That's right."
She turned the page.
"Rebecca was a bit like that."
I looked at my daughter.
May you like
"Yes," I said.
"She was."
