Page 71 of Dying to Meet You
She departs, and I settle down to work. It doesn’t provide its usual welcome distraction, though. I’ve got too many questions on my mind. I wonder if Detective Riley is going to question Harrison.
And then there’s Jules the journalist. Her phone number is still in my pocketbook, while the fact of Tim’s adoption—and his connection to this house—is still rattling around in my head like loose change.
My life is either full of strange coincidences or liars.
I open my inbox to find Harrison’s message from earlier this week.We have to talk about Natalie.
Reluctantly, I open it. If he really has medical information concerning Natalie, of course I need to hear that. But if it’s just a ploy for sympathy, or an excuse to toy with my daughter’s affections, then he’s underestimated me.
Hi Rowan,
I understand why you don’t want contact with me. But Natalie wants to meet me and I’ve been stalling her until you weighed in. I want to hear any concerns you have.
And it’s important that we talk—just once. I have some medical information that affects Natalie as she grows older. It has to dowith my history with substances, and how to protect her going forward.
Please write back or call.
Love for you both,
H
Love?Please.
The message makes me grind my teeth, mostly because it’s so aboveboard. He tried to tell me he’d been in contact with Natalie.
Damn this message. Damn everything.
He also leaves a number, and I save it to my contacts before drafting a reply.
I will, of course, hear you out about the medical information. But not right this minute. There is too much turmoil in our lives. Natalie lied to me about seeing you, and that’s unusual. We need some time to work on what happened before I can consider letting her see you again.
Please respect my wishes and steer clear for now.
R.
I read it back and feel like chucking my computer across the room. I sound uptight and sanctimonious—especially the point about Natalie usually telling the truth.
That’s just wishful thinking, isn’t it?
But I shouldn’t care what Harrison thinks, should I? So I press send.
Beatrice arrives a half hour later with two coffees in a cardboard holder, plus the day’s mail.
I pop out of my chair to unburden her.
She puts a cup of coffee on my desk, while I sort through several slippery catalogs for lighting and hardware. I also find a manila envelopeaddressed to me at the mansion’s address in blocky writing. I slit open the envelope with my thumb and extract a single sheet of paper.
There are only four words hand-lettered in Sharpie marker. HE HAD TO DIE
Beatrice gasps. “Oh God. Don’ttouchit!”
I drop it like a hot potato onto the floor.
***
After Beatrice calls the police, it takes twenty minutes for Detective Fry to arrive.
He collects both the envelope and its contents and carefully bags them. Then he asks us a dozen questions.
