Page 30 of If She Stayed
Her phone sat beside her notebook, the screen displaying the results of her afternoon's research project.Social media searching had become an art form for Diana over the past few weeks, and she'd spent considerable time learning to navigate privacy settings and cross-reference information from multiple platforms.Kate Wise had been more careful about her online presence than most people, but not the rest of her family.And as far as she knew, Allen didn’t even have a social media presence at all.
Diana had found references to Kate's adult daughter, Melissa, in several older posts.A birthday celebration three years ago, a Mother's Day photo from before Michael was born, a Christmas gathering that showed a young woman with Kate's dark hair and intelligent eyes.The posts were sparse and carefully curated, but they provided enough information for Diana to understand the scope of Kate's family connections.
Most significantly, she'd discovered that Kate was not only a mother and stepmother, but also a grandmother.Melissa had a daughter of her own, a little girl who was perhaps four or five years old based on the limited photos Diana could access.The child had Melissa's dark hair and what appeared to be Kate's determined expression, even at such a young age.
So Allen wasn't just marrying a woman with an interesting career and a young son.He was marrying into an entire extended family, gaining not only a wife and stepson but also a stepdaughter and step-granddaughter.All the connections and relationships that Diana had lost when her own marriage imploded, and her children had chosen to side with their father rather than maintain contact with their convicted mother.
Diana finished the vodka in her glass and carefully measured another small amount from the Henderson's bottle, adding water to replace what she'd taken.The alcohol was helping to blur the sharp edges of her anger, but it was also making her thoughts clearer in a way that sobriety never seemed to achieve.It helped her focus on what needed to be done and helped her maintain the emotional distance necessary to plan effectively.
She gathered her notes and phone, checking the time on her screen.It was approaching 4:30 in the afternoon.The Hendersons wouldn't return from their business trip until Sunday evening, giving her plenty of time to complete her work at the house and handle her other obligations.Diana packed her cleaning supplies into their caddy and loaded everything into her Honda Civic, making sure to lock the Henderson's house securely behind her.
She had another spot she could work from… a place a bit quieter and, if she was being honest, more exciting.It made her feel like she was in control of a life that had nearly gotten away from her—a small storage facility she had put a deposit down on two weeks ago.
The drive to the storage facility took twelve minutes through suburban Richmond traffic, past strip malls and office complexes that looked identical to dozens of other commercial areas Diana had seen over the years.She was slightly drunk, she knew, but not dangerously so.Just loose enough around the edges to think clearly about what Allen deserved to experience, drunk enough to feel the full weight of her righteous anger without the usual constraints of social conditioning.
The U-Store-It facility on Broad Street was exactly the kind of anonymous, utilitarian business that served Diana's purposes perfectly.Rows of identical metal buildings housing hundreds of individual storage units, accessible twenty-four hours a day with minimal security oversight.She had rented Unit 247 using her Diane Walsh identity, the deposit covering the first month.The phone number she’d provided connected to a prepaid cell phone she'd purchased specifically for establishing her cover identity.
Diana parked near Building C and walked to her unit, using the key she kept on a separate ring from her apartment and car keys.The metal door rolled up with a soft grinding sound, revealing the ten-by-ten space she'd been using as her base of operations for planning Allen's destruction.
The storage unit was organized with the same methodical precision Diana brought to her house cleaning work.A folding table and chair occupied one corner, surrounded by boxes of files and photographs she'd accumulated during her weeks of surveillance.A corkboard mounted on one wall displayed a detailed timeline of Allen and Kate's relationship, with photos she'd taken through windows and printouts of social media posts arranged in chronological order.
But it was the newest addition to her information that truly had her excited: the results of her research into Kate's extended family.Melissa's address, workplace, and the school attended by Kate's granddaughter.Phone numbers, social media profiles, and daily routines she'd begun to piece together through careful observation and online investigation.It seemed Allen was about to marry into quite the family.A successful FBI agent, an adult daughter who appeared to be thriving in her own life, a granddaughter who represented the next generation of strong, accomplished women.All the connections and relationships that had been stolen from Diana when Allen's testimony sent her to prison.
Diana opened her notebook and began making new entries, planning the next phase of her campaign against Allen's happiness.She'd spent weeks watching his comfortable domestic life with Kate and Michael, documenting their routines and vulnerabilities.But now she understood that his new family extended beyond just Kate and her young son.
To truly make Allen understand what he'd cost her, Diana would need to take away everything he cared about.Not just Kate, but the entire network of relationships that gave Allen's life meaning and purpose.His fiancée, his stepson, his soon-to-be stepdaughter, and the granddaughter who represented the future he thought he was building.
Soon, Allen would learn what that kind of comprehensive loss felt like.
All of it would have to be destroyed, systematically and permanently.Not through violence, necessarily, but through the same kind of calculated campaign that had destroyed Diana's own family.Relationships could be poisoned through carefully planted doubts and strategic revelations.Trust could be eroded through manufactured conflicts and perceived betrayals.
There were so many options available to her… and so far, no one had a clue she was watching from behind the scenes.
Diana had learned a great deal about human psychology during her years in prison, studying not only her fellow inmates but also the guards and administrators who controlled their daily lives.She'd watched marriages dissolve when one partner was incarcerated, seen children gradually lose connection with imprisoned parents, and observed how families fell apart under the pressure of shame and social stigma.
She knew exactly how to replicate those destructive processes in Allen's new family.The hardest part, honestly, was trying to be patient enough to strike at the right time.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Eleanor Whitman knelt beside her raised vegetable bed, gently loosening the soil around the late-season tomatoes that were still producing despite the October chill.The small backyard garden had been her secret little sanctuary for over twenty years, a carefully planned space that was enclosed by her six-foot privacy fence.Even now, with autumn settling over Richmond, the garden retained much of its summer beauty…mainly because of the time and effort she put into tending to it.
The tomato plants still bore fruit, though the nights were getting too cold for them to ripen properly on the vine.Eleanor made a mental note to harvest the green ones this weekend and wrap them in newspaper to ripen indoors.Her pepper plants continued to produce small but flavorful jalapeños and bell peppers, and the hardy herbs like rosemary and thyme showed no signs of slowing down despite the cooler weather.
Along the back fence, a row of chrysanthemums provided splashes of gold and burgundy color, while a small patch of late-blooming marigolds added bright orange accents near the garden gate.Eleanor had always preferred practical beauty to purely ornamental landscaping, so even her flowers served double duty as companion plants that helped protect her vegetables from pests.
The physical work of gardening was exactly what she needed after the emotional upheaval of the past two days.Digging in the soil, tending to plants that depended on her care, harvesting the fruits of months of patient labor.There was something deeply grounding about working with her hands, something that helped quiet the anxious thoughts that had been circling through her mind since Kate's visit that morning.
Margaret dead.Jennifer dead.Two women she had known for years were murdered by someone who apparently was targeting book club members specifically.The idea still seemed impossible, like something out of one of the mystery novels they discussed rather than reality in her quiet suburban neighborhood.Was this one of those odd instances, she wondered, of life imitating art?
Eleanor used her hand cultivator to work around the base of her pepper plants, loosening soil that had been compacted by recent rains.The afternoon sun felt warm on her back, and she could hear birds calling from the mature oak trees that shaded her property.Everything about the moment felt safe and normal, exactly what she needed given the last few days' events.
Agent Wise's warnings echoed in her mind as she worked.Don't open your door to unexpected visitors.Vary your routine.Consider staying with family or friends.Eleanor had called her daughter, Susan, that morning.She was driving over from Short Pump to spend the afternoon and evening with her.She would arrive within the hour, which meant Eleanor wouldn't be alone much longer.
Her husband, George, was at work.He should have retired from the law firm last year, but they'd offered him a boatload of money to stay on just six more months.When he'd asked what she thought, she'd left the choice to him.He'd taken it gladly, telling her that half of the money would pay for the month-long trip to Spain they'd been planning for years.He wouldn't be home until after six o'clock, but by then Susan would be there, and Eleanor would have company for the rest of the evening.
She moved from the peppers to the small herb section, snipping fresh basil and oregano that she would dry for winter cooking.The basil plants were beginning to show signs of cold damage, their leaves darkening around the edges where the first light frost had touched them.Soon, she would need to harvest everything and bring the more tender plants indoors.
She straightened up from her work, stretching her back and admiring the neat rows of vegetables she had been tending.She was reaching for her watering can when a shadow fell across the vegetable bed, blocking the afternoon sunlight that had been warming her back.Eleanor assumed it was a cloud passing over the sun, or perhaps one of the neighborhood cats that occasionally found their way into her yard despite the fence.
