Chapter Four—Julie
BY WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, I’m annoyed with myself for being afraid of my own house.
Nothing else has happened. The new locks work.
The cameras have recorded Dalen leaving at seven-fifteen, me leaving at eight, the housekeeper arriving at ten and leaving shortly after noon, then an impressive amount of nothing.
I’m standing in the Hollman dining room when I decide I’m done letting Sunday night occupy this much space in my head. Laurent is beside me with a clipboard, reading off the measurements for the built-ins while I stare at the fabric panels we’ve propped against the wall.
“The blue,” I say.
He lowers the clipboard. “You hated the blue yesterday.”
“I was wrong yesterday.”
Laurent considers me for a moment. “Are you feeling okay?”
I turn toward him. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
His eyebrows lift. “I asked because you’ve changed your mind three times about fabric.”
“Oh.” That’s accurate. I rub my forehead and look at the panels again. “Blue. Definitely.”
“I’m writing it in ink this time.”
“Live dangerously.”
He makes the notation while I cross the room to look at the fabric from the doorway. The blue is right. It picks up the color in the rug without matching it, and it’ll keep the walnut built-ins from making the room too dark.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I ignore it until Laurent heads downstairs to check the delivery that just arrived, then take it out, expecting Dalen.
The message comes from a number I don’t recognize.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE.
I stare at the screen. My first thought is that somebody sent it to the wrong person.
My second is Sunday night.
I read the message again as cold spreads through me. Someone could mean anything by left. Left a job. Left a relationship. Left a restaurant. People send messages to wrong numbers every day.
They probably don’t use all caps while threatening strangers.
I try to take a screenshot, but the screen shifts when I press the buttons, and the message disappears. “What the hell?”
I open the conversation again. Empty.
I back out and reopen it, then check my deleted messages even though I didn’t delete anything. There’s no message from an unknown number anywhere.
Laurent appears in the doorway carrying a long cardboard box. “The sconces are here, and they’re the right finish for once.” He stops when he sees me. “What’s wrong?”
“I got a text.”
He sets the box on the floor. “Okay.”
“It disappeared.”
His expression changes. “What did it say?”
I swallow before repeating it. “You should have left when you had the chance.”
Laurent stares at me. “That’s creepy.”
“Thank you. I was worried I was overreacting.”
“Who sent it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t recognize the number.” I open the conversation list again. “It’s not even here now.”
He comes closer, and I hand him the phone. Laurent checks the same places I already did before giving it back. “Call Dalen.”
“I will.”
“Now, Julie.”
I take my phone from him. “You’re getting bossy.”
“I’m standing in a client’s dining room while you tell me somebody sent you a threat three days after whatever happened at your house. I’m comfortable being bossy.”
I sigh because he’s right and call my husband.
Dalen answers immediately. “Hey.”
“Something happened.”
His tone changes. “Where are you?”
“At the Hollman house with Laurent. I’m fine.”
Laurent points at himself and nods emphatically, apparently pleased to be included in my proof of life.
“What happened?” Dalen asks.
“I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize. It said, ‘You should have left when you had the chance.’ All caps.”
There’s silence on his end for half a second. “Send me a screenshot.”
“I tried. That’s the problem.” I walk toward the window because standing still has become impossible. “When I tried to take one, the message disappeared. The whole conversation is gone.”
“Stay with Laurent. I’m coming to you.”
I frown. “You’re at work.”
“I know where I am.”
Despite everything, I almost laugh. “You don’t have to come here.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He hangs up before I can argue.
Laurent takes one look at my face. “He’s coming.”
“Apparently.”
“Good.”
I roll my eyes though I’m only going through the motions of exasperation. The message leaves me shaken. “You two would be unbearable together.”
“We’re both excellent in a crisis.”
I snort. “You once called me because a delivery driver brought the wrong throw pillows.”
“That was a crisis.”
I laugh, and the sound helps. It doesn’t make the message disappear from my memory, but my hands stop trembling.
Dalen arrives sixteen minutes later. He comes through the front door with his suit jacket unbuttoned and his tie missing, which tells me how quickly he left his office. It’s probably still on his desk where he leaves it when he has a stretch of alone time and takes it off.
He crosses the foyer and cups my face in both hands before kissing my forehead. “Show me.”
I give him the phone.
Laurent tactfully picks up the box of sconces and disappears toward the back of the house while Dalen checks my messages. He doesn’t find anything either.
“I read it twice,” I say.
Dalen takes out his own phone. “I’m calling the security company.”
I watch him make the call. There’s nothing they can do about a missing text, but that doesn’t stop him from asking what information we should preserve if another one arrives.
When he hangs up, I fold my arms. “Please don’t buy the phone company.”
He doesn’t smile. “I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
“I was considering it.”
I stare at him until his mouth twitches. He catches my hand and pulls me closer. “We’ll figure it out.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I’m persistent.”
I smile. “So I’ve noticed.”
He stays until I tell him I’m going to finish the workday. He doesn’t like it, but he also doesn’t try to order me home. Before he leaves, he gets Laurent’s promise that I won’t be alone.
Laurent waits until the front door closes before coming back into the dining room. “He’s intense.”
“You’ve met him before.”
He waves a hand. “Not when somebody threatened you.”
I pick up the blue fabric panel. “You should see him when a restaurant loses our reservation.”
“That was sarcasm, right?”
“Mostly.”
Work doesn’t distract me as well this time. Every time my phone vibrates, my stomach clenches before I look at the screen. Nothing else comes from an unknown number.
By five, I give up pretending I’m productive.
Meg answers on the second ring while I’m sitting in my car outside the Hollman house. “Hey, sis. What’s up?”
The normal sound of her voice almost makes me cry, which is ridiculous enough that I blink hard and stare through the windshield. “Can you come over tonight?”
Her tone changes immediately. “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you when you get there.”
“Are you okay?”
I sniff. “Yes. I just want to see you.”
“I’ll come straight from work.”
I close my eyes for a second. “Thanks.”
“You never have to thank me for being there.”
I sit in the car after we hang up until I trust myself to drive.
Dalen is already home when I pull into the garage. He meets me in the mudroom and takes my bag before I can put it down.
“I can carry that.”
“I know.”
I let him anyway.
The security company couldn’t tell him anything useful.
The message wasn’t connected to our home system, and without a screenshot or the number, there’s nothing for them to trace.
Dalen wants me to contact my cell provider in the morning, which I agree to mostly because he’ll probably be sitting beside me when I do it.
Meg arrives a little after six with takeout from the Thai place near her office. She sets the bags on the island, takes one look at me, and hugs me before asking what happened.
I hold on longer than usual. She smells like the vanilla perfume she’s worn since college, and some of the tension in my shoulders eases.
“Okay,” she murmurs, rubbing my back. “You’re scaring me now.”
“Sorry.”
She pulls away enough to look at my face. “Tell me.”
Dalen starts unpacking the food while I explain Sunday night, the door, the necklace, and today’s message. Meg’s expression changes with every new piece. “You didn’t tell me any of this.” She glances at Dalen, who isn’t looking at her.
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
She gives me an incredulous look. “You used to call me from college to remind me to take cold medicine.”
“You were terrible at remembering.”
“I was nineteen.”
“You’re still terrible at remembering.” My little laugh comes out soggy.
Meg catches my hand. “Julie.”
The humor leaves me. “I know.”
She squeezes my fingers and leads me to one of the stools. Dalen sets a carton of noodles in front of me and hands me a fork while Meg takes the stool beside mine.
“Did the text say anything else?”
“No. Just that.”
“Did you recognize the number?”
I shake my head. “I barely looked at it before I read the message. Then I tried to take the screenshot.”
She frowns. “And it disappeared?”
“Yes.”
Her frown deepens. “That’s possible, right? Those disappearing-message things?”
Dalen sets down another carton. “There are ways to make messages disappear. We don’t know what happened with this one yet.”
I eat a bite of noodles even though I’m not hungry. “Laurent saw me immediately afterward. He didn’t see the message itself, but he saw me freaking out.”
Meg rubs my arm. “That’s something.”
I nod and eat another bite.
We stay at the island because none of us cares enough to set the table. Meg starts talking about work after a while, which I’m grateful for. Apparently, her boss has moved on from folder colors to reorganizing the supply closet by frequency of use. “He made a chart,” she says.
I point my fork at her. “Quit.”
“Are you going to pay my rent?”
Dalen opens his mouth. Meg and I both look at him, and he closes it again.
“Good choice,” I say with approval.
His mouth curves, and for a while, the evening almost feels normal.
After dinner, Meg helps me put away the leftovers while Dalen takes a call in his office. I stack containers in the refrigerator, and she wipes sauce from the counter.