Page 62 of Rich Little Liars

‘When did you leave for the hospital?’ he asks.

‘Yesterday morning. Around seven.’

‘And you’ve been there since?’

‘Yes. Sitting with Richard.’

‘Has he woken up?’

‘Not yet.’

Harvey nods, makes a note. Then continues his sweep.

Upstairs, we check each bedroom. The spare room where I first saw the figure in my garden. The bathroom with its too-bright tiles. My own room, the bed still unmade from the night everything went wrong. Richard’s side of the mattress still shows the indent of his body.

Everything is as I left it. No signs of entry. No evidence that anyone has been inside.

‘House is clear,’ Harvey says finally. ‘No one’s here but us.’

I should feel relieved. Instead, I feel drained. Hollowed out by adrenaline that has nowhere to go.

We return to the kitchen. Harvey fills the kettle without asking and switches it on, moving around my space with a familiarity that should feel intrusive but somehow doesn’t. He finds mugs, instant coffee, milk. Performs the small domestic ritual of making coffee while I sink into a chair and try to remember how to breathe normally.

‘Here.’ He sets a mug in front of me. Strong, creamy, exactly how I take it. ‘Drink.’

I wrap my hands around the warmth and obey. The coffee is too hot, scalding my tongue, but the pain is grounding. Real. Something to focus on besides the terror that’s become my constant companion.

Harvey sits across from me. His notebook stays in his pocket. He’s just watching me now, his expression unreadable but somehow less sharp than before. Less like an interrogator and more like someone who’s finally seeing me as human rather than a suspect.

‘I owe you an apology,’ he says quietly.

I blink at him over my mug. ‘What?’

‘At the hospital. I was pushing you. Suggesting things. Making implications about your past.’ He shakes his head. ‘That wasn’t fair. You’d just watched someone you care about get attacked in your own home. That wasn’t the time for the kind of questions I was asking.’

‘You were doing your job.’

‘Maybe. But there’s doing my job and there’s being a decent human being, and I’m not sure I managed both.’ He meets my eyes directly. ‘I’ve been in this work a long time. You see patterns everywhere. Start treating everyone like a puzzle to solve rather than a person to help. It’s a bad habit.’

I don’t know what to say. This is so different from our previous interactions – from his probing questions and knowing looks and the constant sense that he was waiting for me to slip up.

‘Thank you,’ I manage. ‘For saying that.’

‘Don’t thank me. Just tell me the truth – is there anything else I should know? Not as an investigator. Just… as someone trying to keep you safe. Is there something you’re holding back that might help me understand who’s doing this to you?’

The question sits between us. I consider the notes. The ring. The things I’ve been hiding because revealing them means revealing everything else. But looking at Harvey now – at the genuine concern in his brown eyes, the weariness around his mouth that suggests he’s lost sleep over this case – I wonder if maybe I’ve been wrong. Maybe not everyone is an enemy. Maybe some people actually want to help.

But I can’t. Not yet. Not until I understand more about who’s doing this. Because once I start telling the truth, I can’t take it back. And the truth is complicated. Damning. The kind of thing that could turn Harvey’s sympathy back into suspicion in a heartbeat.

‘I don’t know who’s doing this,’ I say. Which is true, if incomplete. ‘I don’t know why they’re targeting me. I just know I’m scared.’

He studies me for a moment. Then nods slowly, as if accepting my answer even though he doesn’t fully believe it.

‘Right. Then here’s what we’re going to do.’ He leans forward, elbows on the table. ‘First, I’m having a patrol car drive past this street every hour. Anyone sees anything suspicious, they’ll be here in minutes. Second, please consider staying somewhere else for a few nights. A hotel. A friend’s house. Somewhere this person doesn’t know about.’

‘I don’t have anywhere else to go.’

‘What about family?’