I remembered the way he had smiled when I agreed.
He had mistaken my calm for weakness.
He had assumed that because I wasn’t shouting, I wasn’t paying attention.
He had believed that if he could control the information, he could control the people who possessed it.
He had been wrong.
I took a cup from the cupboard, made myself some tea, and sat by the window.
My phone buzzed.
It was a message from an unknown number.
You should have let Richard handle this.
I stared at the screen.
Then I forwarded the message to the investigator.
I did not reply.
I did not try to identify the sender myself.
I did not allow fear to turn me into the reckless person Richard had always claimed I was.
I had learned that courage was not the same as confrontation.
Sometimes courage was preserving the evidence, asking for help, and refusing to let someone else’s desperation dictate your next move.
