Page 24 of Fury
"Richard Keller," she confirms. "He started coming in more frequently about three months ago, always insisting on the last appointment of the day."
My skin prickles with unease. "I remember. He gave me the creeps."
"He… he would talk while I worked on him. At first, it was just venting about his wife, normal stuff. But then it got darker. He started telling me things, Livie. Horrible things."
Greyson moves closer, his hand settling on my lower back.
"What kind of things?" I press.
"He told me he kept his wife locked in their basement for a week when she tried to leave him." Diane's voice breaks. "He bragged about it, like it was something to be proud of. And there were others before her—women he'd hurt, controlled, terrorized."
"Jesus Christ," Mason mutters.
"I didn't know what to do," Diane continues. "I was scared if I confronted him or reported him, he might come after me. So, I started recording our sessions on my phone. I have hours of him confessing to abuse, assault, even…" She falters. "…even talking about a woman who 'disappeared' after threatening to expose him."
Her words hang heavy in the air.
"Why didn't you go to the police?" I ask, trying to keep the accusation from my voice.
"I did, eventually. About six weeks ago. But they said without physical evidence, it was just hearsay. That's when I hired a private investigator to look into his past. He found three ex-girlfriends who had restraining orders against Richard, and one who had mysteriously withdrawn assault charges after receiving a large sum of money."
I run a hand through my hair, trying to process this information. "So, what happened? How did he find out you were gathering evidence?"
"I don't know for sure," Diane admits. "But two days after I met with the PI, Richard canceled his standing appointment. Then the flowers started arriving at the salon. For both of us."
"Both of us? But why me? I barely spoke to the guy."
There's another long pause before Diane answers. "Because you were there, Livie. You overheard some of our conversations. And…" She takes a deep breath. "I kept the recordings, the PI's reports, everything in a flash drive that I hid."
"Where?" I ask, though I'm starting to piece it together.
"In the back of the framed photo of us at Venice Beach. The one on the bookshelf in our apartment." Her voice is small now, guilty. "I'm so sorry, Livie. I never thought he'd come after you. I just needed somewhere safe to keep it, somewhere he wouldn't look."
The pieces click into place with sickening clarity. "So, all this time, he wasn't stalking me because of some twisted obsession. He was looking for evidence that could put him in prison?"
"I think so," Diane says. "When you suddenly moved back home, he must have panicked, thinking you took the flash drive with you."
"Which explains the map," Mason interjects. "He's been searching every property connected to our family, looking for that evidence."
I close my eyes, remembering the strange car I'd spotted outside my parents' house that first night home. "He's been watching me since I arrived. Waiting for an opportunity."
"Livie, I'm so, so sorry," Diane says, her voice thick with tears. "I never meant to put you in danger. I just wanted to stop him before he hurt someone else."
Greyson's hand tightens on my waist. "We need that flash drive," he says, loud enough for Diane to hear. "It's the only way to end this."
"It's still in the apartment, as far as I know," Diane says. "I haven't touched the frame since I hid it there. I will go right now and grab it.”
"Do it," I say firmly. "And, Diane? Stay somewhere safe until this is over. If he can't find the evidence here, he might go back to LA, back to you."
"I will," she promises. "And, Livie? I really am sorry."
After we hang up, I lean heavily against the counter, emotions swirling through me—relief at finally understanding what's happening, anger at being dragged into this nightmare unwittingly, fear for what might happen next.
"So, we know who he is now," Mason muses, already typing on his phone. "Richard Keller, finance guy from LA."
"I'll call Dad," I say, reaching for my phone again. "He needs to know."
Greyson's hand covers mine, stopping me. "Wait." His voice is tight with rage. "Before you call anyone else, we need to decide how to handle this."
