kids. Her kids. The idea that this might affect them was unbearable. Sarah’s heart rate increased and she felt dizzy. Her vision blurred, and she leaned against the wall. She took a deep breath, then another, then another.
‘Are you OK?’ Jean said.
‘I need to calm down,’ Sarah said. ‘I haven’t had a panic attack for a couple of years, but all this worry is bringing them back. I nearly had one the other day.’ She inhaled deeply. ‘God, this is the last thing I need.’
‘I’m not surprised you’re having them again,’ Jean said. ‘I would be. But you should definitely talk to the cops. It’ll make you feel better.’
Ian Molyneux – Lieutenant in Barrow PD and high-school friend of Sarah’s – arrived shortly after 8 p.m.
Sarah opened the door and led him into the living room. She pointed to an armchair.
‘Take a seat,’ she said. ‘Good to see you. Beer?’
‘Since I’m off-duty,’ Ian said. ‘Why not?’
Ben came into the room. ‘I’ll get them,’ he said. ‘IPA OK, Ian?’
‘Perfect.’ He looked at Sarah. ‘So,’ he said. ‘You mentioned there was a problem you wanted to talk about?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s kind of unusual. I was wondering whether you would have any advice.’
‘I might,’ Ian said. ‘Try me.’
Sarah outlined what had happened, from the Facebook posts to the fake emails to Carla. As she was finishing, Ben came in with three bottles of IPA.
‘Thanks,’ Ian said, taking a swig from the bottle, then setting it down on the table in front of him. ‘It is pretty unusual,’ he said. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever come across anything quite like it.’ He paused. ‘The closest thing would be a stalker, or an online troll abusing you. We can deal with both of those – it’s not necessarily easy, but there are things we can do. Court orders restricting someone from coming within five hundred feet of you, that kind of thing. If someone’s abusing you online, you can report it to the Internet company, or block them. And mostly cyber abuse turns out to be some keyboard warrior working out his or her frustration at their shitty lives. They’re happy to abuse people behind the safety of their screen, but if they met their target face to face they’d run a mile, although from time to time it can be more serious.’ He paused for another sip. ‘The problem is that this is different. We don’t know who’s doing it.’
‘Right,’ Ben replied. ‘The only name we have is Sarah Havenant, which isn’t really much help. It could be anyone doing this, which makes it hard to deal with.’
Ian looked at Sarah. ‘Do you have any ideas who it might be? Think who would want to do it. And then who would be able to do it.’
‘I tried,’ Sarah said. ‘But I can’t think of who would want to do this. And then there’s the practicality. No one was at all of the places in the photos. At least, I don’t think there was anyone.’
Ben sat forward. ‘One question we should ask is cui bono? Who benefits? Who profits? When there’s not an obvious motive for an action, figuring out who benefits from it might reveal who’s behind it.’
Sarah thought for a few moments. Who did benefit? No one was getting richer. No one was getting anything, other than her, who was getting freaked out. So the question was, who would want to freak her out?
And she couldn’t think of anybody.
‘Has anything changed recently?’ Ian said. ‘At work? New colleagues?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘Apart from the return of Rachel Little, nothing’s new.’
Ian frowned. ‘Rachel Little from high school?’
‘The same. She was out west, and now she’s back. In fact, it was her who told me about the Facebook profile.’
‘Hmm,’ Ian said. ‘Interesting.’
‘You think it could be her?’ Ben said. ‘She seemed harmless enough when I met her.’
‘She was a bit of an oddball, back in the day,’ Ian said.
‘She’s changed,’ Sarah said. ‘Grown up. Like all of us.’
‘It could be her,’ Ian said. ‘It’s not obvious why she would suddenly be doing this, twenty years after we last saw her, but it is a coincidence that she happens to return right when this is going on.’ He shrugged. ‘Coincidences happen, though.’
‘Is there anything you can do?’
‘I can look her up,’ Ian replied. ‘See if there’s anything unusual. I’ll let you know, if there is.’
‘And what should we be doing?’ Ben said. ‘Anything specific?’
‘Be vigilant,’ Ian said. ‘Sarah – if you go somewhere alone, make sure Ben or someone else knows so they can check you got there. Lock your doors and windows at night.’
‘And the kids?’ Sarah said. It was hard to believe she was having to question whether the safety of their children was in any way compromised. ‘Miles and Faye are in camp. Kim’s at day care.’
‘You could mention this to the camp leader and ask them to keep an eye on the kids. Likewise at day care. But they should have security practices around supervision and pickup.’
‘You don’t think we should pull them out?’ Ben said.
‘You could,’ Ian replied. ‘That’s a matter for you.’
‘But then what?’ Sarah said. ‘They’re stuck in the house all day while their buddies are out doing stuff. And we have to work. We’d need a small army of babysitters.’
‘Who are probably less qualified than the professionals to take care of them,’ Ian said. ‘If there was a threat to your kids, I don’t think they’d be particularly safe in the care of a bored teenager.’
‘Then we leave them in,’ Ben said. ‘For now. And you’ll look into Rachel, correct?’
‘Correct,’ Ian said, and got to his feet. ‘Thanks for the beer. I’ll inform the station. If you call for some reason, they’ll know there’s been something going on. And good luck.’
When Ian had left, Ben sat next to Sarah on the couch. He put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. She pressed her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes. She loved Ben in a way which she had not understood was possible until she had met him; she’d had a boyfriend in high school and then a couple in college who she had thought she was in love with – and maybe she was, in a way – but she had felt apart from them, in some important sense. She had liked them, admired them, had great, passionate sex with them, but she had always known she could live without them.
With Ben it was different. It wasn’t that he was better than them, necessarily – no doubt they were loving, responsible fathers
