So it mattered, he supposed, not how she'd know where Seanna was, but simply acknowledging that she would.
Pamela Larsen was coming to Cainsville.
Coming to murder Seanna Walsh.
And Liv expected him to ruin such a perfect scene?
Sacrilege.
No, this wasn't about stopping Pamela. Not at all.
As he approached Rowan Street, he replayed exactly what Liv had said. She asked him to speak to Veronica or Grace first. Which seemed odd.
Patrick shook his head. His curiosity really could get the better of him sometimes.
As for why Liv wouldn't want him to let Pamela kill Seanna, well, that was no mystery at all. She had to say that, didn't she? Gabriel was sitting right next to her in the car, and while Patrick suspected Liv would kill Seanna herself if she could get away with it, she'd be much more circumspect in front of her new lover.
Gabriel would want Seanna dead. Yet he could not do it himself. Ergo, under other circumstances, Liv would happily turn a blind eye to Pamela's scheme. But Liv finally had Gabriel and was more nervous than became a young woman of her cunning and resolve.
Cunning...
Interesting word choice. And there, perhaps inadvertently, he had solved the mystery. Answered that niggling feeling that said such squeamishness did not become Olivia.
Patrick had misinterpreted the point of the call entirely. It wasn't to stop Pamela. It was to protect Gabriel. Call Patrick and tell him what was happening, and ask--demand--he do something about it, while knowing full well he wouldn't. Therefore, when Seanna died at Pamela's hands, Gabriel would suffer no guilt at having failed to stop it. Liv had tried to stop it. Gabriel had overheard her. Whatever happened after that...well, that was Patrick's fault, wasn't it? Not theirs at all.
Patrick smiled.
Clever, clever Liv. He should be furious, of course, at being played. But he admired her skill too much for that.
He appreciated the steps she took to protect his son, and he would reward her.
No, it's my fault, Gabriel. I told Liv I'd stop Pamela. I was very clear on that. She had no reason to doubt me.
There. A selfless act. Liv would be pleased. Moreover, Matilda would be pleased, and as much as Patrick liked to pretend otherwise, he was very aware of Matilda's importance. Currying her favor was to his benefit. She would owe him. Quid pro quo.
Now, time to give you what you want, Liv. What my son needs. For his mother to return to an unmarked grave and a cold-case file.
As Patrick walked behind Grace's building, he spotted a middle-aged woman, her rounded figure further padded by a long down-filled jacket. A dark winter hat--pulled down as far as it would go--hid her hair and part of her face, the rest obscured by a thick scarf.
"Dressed for the occasion, I see," he said as he ambled over. "A cold night's dark endeavor."
The woman let out a laugh. "Well, it is cold. This will warm me up, though." She lifted a wine bag. "Just as soon as I get up to my friend's apartment."
Patrick stopped a few feet away, staying deep in shadow. "Who's your friend?" Before she could answer, he lifted a sheet of paper and unfolded it. "Ah, now, you really did come prepared. A map of the building and all. Very thorough."
The woman patted her pockets. "How--?"
"You dropped it," Patrick lied, flashing his teeth in a smile, and she finally turned to him.
Pamela Larsen. I see where your daughter gets that look of hers, the one that says she knows she's being conned but doesn't have enough evidence to convict.
He handed back the map. "That looks like Liv's floor."
Pamela smiled, a wonderfully guileless smile. "It is. I'll have to tell her I met you. Now, if you'll excuse me..." She reached for the door.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Hmm?"