“We should go to the police,” Jess says. “This is harassment.”
She’s still in her work clothes—a pale taupe jacket and trousers with a white blouse—as she studies the messages on my phone, index finger scrolling up and down the screen. As soon as she’d walked in the front door, Callum and Daisy had told her in solemn detail about the story of the pigeon and its burial in the back garden. Now Leah plays a game of Hungry Hippos with her two younger siblings in the lounge while Jess and I sit at the kitchen table, our heads close together, talking in low voices.
She hands the phone back to me. “It’s obviously a threat.”
“I’ve already left a message with the detective I spoke to before, DC Rubin.”
“Feels like we need to do more than that.”
“I know,” I say. “It’s just that…”
“What?”
“Whoever sent the text doesn’t actually admit to leaving the pigeon, and even if they did, I don’t know if that’s something the police would act on. I mean, for all anyone can say, that bird might have flown into the window or been killed by a cat.”
She raises her eyebrows.
“You don’t really think it was a coincidence, do you? Obviously, it was put there for a reason, hence the texts. A dead bird—it’s disgusting.”
“I agree,” I say. “Just thinking of what the police will probably say.”
“But we could get a restraining order, or something?”
“Against who?”
“There must besomethingmore we can do.” She blows out a heavy breath. “Can they trace the phone number, find out who it is? And what about the evidence—did you take a picture of it?”
“A picture?”
“Of the pigeon.”
I open my mouth to reply, close it again. In between talking to the children about the poor creature, answering their questions about death, and digging a makeshift grave in the flowerbed, I have to admit it hadn’t occurred to me to take a picture.
“I guess I could dig it up again,” I say. “But like I said, whether we have a picture or not, it doesn’t necessarily prove anything. Unless there is a witness who saw someone on the drive today.”
She gives me a bewildered look, her face lined with worry.
“How can you be so calm? This week is just getting more and more weird, like someone is playing with us, toying with us, and any moment they might decide to do something bad. I don’t like it at all.”
“Believe me, I’m as wound up as you are,” I say. “But I also want to figure out the best way to put all of this behind us.”
My wife traces a line on the grooved surface of the old oak kitchen table, the fingertips of her right hand going back and forth, back and forth. She’s silent for a moment, and when she speaks again she won’t look at me.
“What if we just… gave them what they wanted?”
“Hand everything over, you mean?”
“You know me,” she says. “I hate bullies.Hatethem. And I hate the fact that they left a dead animal at our front door when they knew our kids would probably be the first to see it coming home from school. But what if we just…” She gives a shrug of resignation. “What if we let them have what they want? Then do you think they’d go away? Leave us alone?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to confess. To admit that’s not an option—because the little collection from the hidden room is now in three different locations. Getting the collar and the key back from Maxine shouldn’t be a problem but I can’t tell her I sold the watch for cash at a jeweler’s shop; can’t tell her about the redundancy without piling more worries on her and opening up a whole new can of worms. I can’t explain the sense of purpose I’ve found these last few days, the chance to right a wrong, to do somethinggood.
Instead, I take the easy way out, a burn of shame at the base of my throat.
“I think if we give in now, they’ll probably be back next week asking for something else.” I put my hand over hers. “For something more.”
I hate lying to my wife. But I can’t tell her the whole truthjustyet. Instead, I tell her that I’ll keep trying DC Rubin until I get through to her, that I’ll look into getting a doorbell camera to capture any more visitors to the house, that I’ll find out who’s behind the threats, and make sure the police act on that information. Above all else, I promise that I will keep our family safe. Keep our children safe.
“I’m not going to let anything happen,” I say quietly. “I promise.”
