‘Could it be upstairs?’ Hanna suggests.
Stephanie shakes her head, but charges up the stairs anyway, looks in her bedroom, then goes swiftly down the hall and checks on the still-sleeping twins. But the bag isn’t there, either. She’s getting upset now. It’s dawning on her: someone was in the house and took her handbag. They could have taken the babies, too, and she wouldn’t have known. And it’s her own damn fault for not locking the front door properly. And she left her bag right there on the floor, by the front door. ‘How could I be so stupid?’ she fumes at Hanna, back downstairs once again. ‘My wallet was in there, all my ID. Everything! I’ll have to get it all replaced.’ Just the thought of the effort that will require is enough to flatten her.
‘Don’t blame yourself,’ Hanna tells her. ‘You should be able to leave your door unlocked and not expect someone to come in and steal your handbag.’
‘You said it was wide open.’
‘It was when I saw it,’ Hanna admits.
‘Patrick will be upset. He worries about me,’ Stephanie says. ‘I’m so absent-minded these days, so forgetful.’
‘I’ll help you get your ID replaced,’ Hanna offers. ‘I’ve done it before. I had my bag snatched once in New York City.’
Stephanie manages to swallow her dismay. ‘Thanks, Hanna. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ Then she realizes something else. ‘I had a spare house key in there too. I’ll have to get the locks replaced.’
She wants to invite Hanna to have a cup of coffee and tell her everything – about Patrick’s past and the woman who is threatening them. But she can’t. She must keep it to herself. Even if it feels almost too heavy to bear.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
STEPHANIE STRUGGLES TO get the double buggy out of the boot. It had rained overnight, but now it’s cleared and it’s going to be a nice day. It’s not even 11 a.m. but she’s already been up for hours. She’s had two coffees to clear the fog in her head. But today it’s more than sleep deprivation that’s bothering her, making her forgetful and distracted as she packs for an outing with the twins. She and Patrick are both on edge, waiting to hear again from Erica Voss. And Patrick had been upset last night when she’d told him about the theft of her handbag. He’d insisted she be more careful and called a locksmith immediately.
Her exhaustion makes everything seem even more unmanageable, more overwhelming. How can life throw such curveballs at you? She’s just a normal wife and mother, but now she and her husband are the subject of attempted blackmail. That Patrick had cheated on his first wife was bad enough – she can hardly believe it. And the rest of it …
Last night, they’d discussed going to the Aylesford police. Patrick wasn’t in favour of it. But to her it seems the most sensible plan. Maybe they could charge this woman, or at least frighten her off. For now, they’ve agreed that when Erica gets in touch again, Patrick will tell her that Stephanie knows everything and they’re not going to pay her a cent. Maybe then she’ll go away.
She’s keeping her phone close, waiting to hear from him.
The babies are dressed in their adorable complementary outfits. She has to get out of the house. The best thing is to go for a walk in the fresh air, showing Jackie and Emma the butterflies and the flowers, and then stopping at the park nearby. There, they’ll sit on a blanket by the sandpit with the toys she’s brought and she’ll do her best to keep them entertained. Most days she runs into someone she knows at the park, something she usually looks forward to. She’s not sure she wants to see anyone today, though. She can’t tell anyone what she’s dealing with – not even Hanna, her closest friend.
She lifts the babies into the buggy, buckles them in and locks up the house. Then she gives her girls a smile and a little chuck under each chin, talking to them as she pushes them along the pavement. Then she pulls out her cell phone, takes a cute picture of the twins in the buggy, and texts it to her husband.
He doesn’t respond. Maybe he’s in a meeting. She imagines how difficult it must be to focus on work with all this going on.
When she finally gets to the park, there are a couple of other mothers sitting with their babies on blankets beneath the trees while their older children play in the nearby sandpit. No one she really knows except by sight. She lifts the babies out of the buggy onto their blanket. She has to keep her eye on them, but she quickly glances at her phone. She hasn’t heard from Patrick, and she’s getting more and more nervous. Has he heard from Erica? She threatened him on Wednesday, and now it’s Friday. Is she trying to make them sweat?
She hears her phone ping and takes a quick look.
Haven’t heard from her. Will keep you posted.
She puts her phone away, unhappy. She thinks they should go to the cops. They’re law-abiding citizens, victims of an attempted crime. Patrick hasn’t done anything wrong. The police here won’t be interested in reopening a case in Colorado. She thinks they are their best option.
‘So adorable,’ a woman says, sitting down near her on the ledge of the sandpit.
Stephanie glances at her, pulled out of her thoughts. ‘Oh, thanks,’ she says, smiling absently. She gets this a lot, especially with twins, but no woman ever tires of hearing some stranger tell her how adorable her kids are. The woman looks familiar.
‘Do I know you?’ Stephanie asks.
‘No, I don’t think so. No – wait – I think I saw you yesterday in the drugstore. In the line for the cashier.’
‘Oh, that’s right. I remember now,’ Stephanie says.
‘You were buying diapers and dark chocolate,’ the other woman says.
Stephanie is a little taken aback that this woman noticed what she bought.
‘How old are they?’ the other woman asks.
‘Four and a half months, just about,’ Stephanie answers, wondering absently where the woman’s own kids are. She doesn’t appear to have any with her. Why is she here at the sandpit, then? Stephanie looks at her more closely. She’s very pretty, with blonde hair in a loose ponytail, snug jeans, and a smart blouse. Stephanie is suddenly aware of her own untidy hair, the spit-up on her T-shirt, and the fact that she’s still wearing maternity jeans. It’s going to be a while before she gets her body back, and she has a momentary twinge of jealousy, even regret, looking at the trim, attractive woman in front of her. But then she glances at her babies, and she doesn’t care what she looks like. It’s totally worth it to have Emma and Jackie. They’re everything to her. So what if she’s put on a few pounds?
‘Twins are so cute,’ the woman says.
Stephanie nods. ‘Yes, twice as cute and twice as exhausting,’ she says ruefully.
‘My sister has twins,’ the woman says. ‘Her husband is a lawyer, and he says it’s like serving your sentence concurrently rather than consecutively.’
They laugh. ‘Do you live around here?’ Stephanie asks, curious.
‘Not yet. My husband and I are looking. I thought I’d walk around and check out the neighbourhood and shops and hang out in the parks and coffee shops a bit before we buy. I don’t think you should just fall in love with a house without knowing what you’re getting into, the bigger picture.’