Chapter 28 - The Husband I Buried

Now

I forced a smile as Officer Murphy and Officer Davidson stepped out of their car and made their way to my front step.

‘Sorry to interrupt your Friday evening like this,’ said Officer Murphy.

‘That’s quite all right,’ I said, feeling worse for them. After they left, I was done, but they had to go back to work.

‘Can we come in?’

I opened the door, Tess pressing against my leg as I made my way back inside. I held her gently around her chest so she didn’t escape.

‘You got a dog,’ said Officer Davidson. ‘Can I?’ He moved to scratch her ear.

I nodded, hoping they’d get on with it. I didn’t know how long Keith would wait for me to show up, and I wanted to know what he couldn’t say over the phone.

‘We’re following up on your report,’ he said.

‘About the window?’ I asked.

‘And a few other things,’ said Officer Davidson.

The officers didn’t rush in. They looked first at the threshold, the latch, the hinge side of the door, like the house itself might still be talking if you knew where to listen.

‘We had a chance to look closer at the photos we took,’ Murphy said. ‘The latch wasn’t splintered from the inside.’

I waited.

‘The fracture pattern suggests outward pressure,’ Davidson added. ‘It wasn’t a bad seal or weather stress. Someone manipulated it. They would have to have been standing under it.’

‘So, it was a break-in,’ I said.

‘An attempted one,’ Murphy corrected. ‘Or an entry and exit without theft.’

Davidson shrugged. ‘It happens more than you think. Our guess is they were looking for something.’

They were too late. I had already figured out that the culprit had broken in and left that invitation, but if I told the police that, I was afraid I’d compromise ever seeing Luis again.

Murphy glanced around the room and wrote something down in a script I couldn’t read. ‘We wanted to ask if you’ve noticed anything else unusual since then. Anyone stop by?’

My pulse ticked up, slow and steady.

I thought of the envelope.

The weight of it. The spiral.

We will retrieve your response.

I hesitated.

Davidson mistook my silence for consideration. ‘Anything at all,’ he said. ‘Even if it feels unrelated.’

I considered my options the way I did in court – what to give, what to hold back. The invitation wasn’t evidence of a crime. It wasn’t even overtly suspicious. But it wasn’t nothing.

‘There was a letter . . . an invitation,’ I said finally. ‘Hand-delivered.’

Davidson’s head tilted. ‘Who was it from?’

‘A wellness institute,’ I said. ‘The Coterie Institute.’

Murphy’s pen paused. ‘Do you still have it?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But it doesn’t ask for money. There’s no threat. No address. Just an invite.’

‘To what?’ Davidson asked.

‘They didn’t say,’ I replied. ‘The invite says they’ll follow up.’

Silence settled.

Murphy exchanged a look with Davidson.

‘Do you mind if we take a look at it?’ Davidson asked.

‘Sure.’ I went to retrieve it, Tess following behind, like she was afraid of missing out on something.

Murphy put on some gloves and took a look, Davidson leaning over his shoulder. ‘It looks like fancy junk mail,’ Davidson said. ‘What do they call it . . . targeted advertising.’

Murphy smelled the card. ‘That smells too expensive to be used for advertising,’ he said. ‘Have you had contact with this group before?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Not directly.’

‘Anyone close to you?’ Murphy asked.

I kept my voice neutral. There was no point telling them the fragrance was the same scent Luis wore and that I was sure I’d seen him boarding a train. If I couldn’t get my own best friend to take this seriously, I doubted two strangers whose job it was to be skeptical would either.

‘I’m a criminal defense attorney. I encounter a lot of organizations adjacent to cases.’

That answer landed the way I intended it to. True, but not expansive.

Murphy made a note. ‘We’re asking because this kind of delivery aligns with what we see in targeted approaches. Not criminal, necessarily. But deliberate.’

‘Targeted how?’ I asked.

‘People don’t usually hand-deliver invitations unless they know the recipient will open the door.’

My skin prickled.

‘I found it inside the house,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t here when it was delivered.’

‘We know someone tested your house. That someone returned. And they didn’t want to be seen.’

It seemed pretty elaborate to do a test run just to deliver an invitation. If I was going to meet with them, and they believed I would, wouldn’t I see them eventually anyway?

‘Should I be worried?’ I asked.

‘Hard to say, but they haven’t made any attempt to hurt you.’

That wasn’t reassuring.

They took a few more details and looked around before standing to leave. ‘If they make contact again – another visit, another letter – call us. Day or night. And don’t engage with them.’

‘Sure,’ I agreed, non-committal.

After the door closed behind them, I watched to make sure they’d gone.

I hadn’t told them everything. But I’d told them enough. Somewhere between the broken window and the invitation, a thread had been drawn tight – and the police had just marked it. Whatever the Coterie Institute thought it was doing, it wasn’t operating in the dark anymore. I had just told the police exactly where to look for me if things didn’t work out.

As I stepped outside, I caught movement across the street. Greg’s head popped up at the window, eyes fixed on my house. He looked like he was scoping out the place. Or maybe just keeping watch. He must have noticed the police leaving. I shivered, telling myself it was probably nothing, and let Keith know I was on my way.