PART 8: THE PROMISE HE NEVER SHOULD HAVE MADE
Nobody missed what Dale had just said.
Not Linda.
Not Colleen.
Not Paula.
And certainly not me.
He was still staring at the photograph.
His lips were slightly apart, as if he wished he could pull those last seven words back into his mouth.
Paula spoke first.
“What did you mean…”
“…she promised she’d never use your name again?”
Dale closed his eyes.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You already did,” Linda replied.
“So explain it.”
He looked around the kitchen.
For the first time since this nightmare had begun, he didn’t look angry.
He looked exhausted.
Twenty years older than he had an hour earlier.
“I met Janice when I was nineteen.”
No one interrupted.
“My uncle hired me after high school.”
“What uncle?” Paula asked.
“My mother’s older brother.”
“His name?”
“Harold Dawson.”
Linda immediately wrote it down.
“He owned a small bookkeeping business.”
Colleen let out a bitter laugh.
“That’s what they called it.”
Dale nodded slowly.
“I didn’t know anything.”
“I answered phones.”
“Filed papers.”
“Delivered envelopes.”
“Made coffee.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“At least…that’s what I thought.”
Linda asked quietly,
“When did you realize something was wrong?”
“The first widow.”
The room became perfectly still.
“I drove Janice to her house.”
“She stayed inside almost two hours.”
“When she came back…”
“…she handed me a folder and told me to take it to the courthouse.”
“You did?”
“I was nineteen.”
“I thought I was doing my job.”
He looked at me.
“I swear to you…”
“…I had no idea what was inside.”
Linda folded her hands.
“But eventually you found out.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The newspaper investigation.”
“The same one in the clipping?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“I quit.”
Colleen shook her head.
“No.”
“You ran.”
He didn’t argue.
She was right.
“I left town.”
“I changed jobs.”
“I never wanted to hear Janice Holloway’s name again.”
Paula stared at him.
“Then why did she come to our house Thursday night?”
Dale didn’t answer.
Instead, he looked toward the back door.
The same door Janice had walked through.
Linda noticed.
“You were expecting her.”
“No.”
“You let her inside.”
“I…”
“You knew exactly who she was.”
His shoulders slumped.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He swallowed hard.
“Because six months ago…”
“…she found me.”
The words landed like a stone in the middle of the table.
“She walked into the hardware store where I work.”
“I recognized her immediately.”
“What did she want?” Paula whispered.
“She smiled.”
“The same smile she always used.”
“Then she said…”
He stopped.
His hands had begun to tremble.
Linda waited patiently.
“What did she say?”
His voice dropped to almost a whisper.
“She said…”
“‘You’ve done very well for yourself, Dale.’”
“‘Nice house.’”
“‘Beautiful wife.’”
“‘Comfortable life.’”
“‘It would be a shame if someone remembered 1998.’”
No one moved.
No one even blinked.
Paula slowly backed away from him.
“She was blackmailing you.”
Dale nodded.
“Yes.”
“With what?”
“My past.”
Linda leaned forward.
“So she wanted money?”
“No.”
“What then?”
He looked directly at me.
“She wanted access to this house.”
Every hair on the back of my neck stood up.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“I swear I don’t know.”
Linda didn’t take her eyes off him.
“I think you do.”
Before Dale could answer, the doorbell rang.
Not the front door.
The side entrance leading into the kitchen.
Three sharp rings.
Everyone turned.
Through the frosted glass, I could make out the outline of a woman.
She was carrying a large manila envelope.
Then her voice came through the door.
“Marguerite?”
It was calm.
Pleasant.
Almost cheerful.
“I know you’re in there.”
Every person in the kitchen froze.
Dale’s face turned completely white.
Without looking toward the door, he whispered,
“Don’t let her in.”
Because the woman standing outside…
…was Janice Holloway herself.
