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Fortunately, I’d neglected enough basic housework that I’d be able to stay busy for a few hours. After that, I’d see where things stood.
I was halfway through washing up some dishes when my phone rang. My heart jumped, and I barely took the time to dry my hands before I grabbed it.
“Hello?”
The moment the robotic recording started up again, I cursed. It took all the restraint I possessed to set my phone down instead of throwing it against a wall.
That was it. I was done ignoring the issue and hoping it would go away. I needed my father to stop calling me. Blocking the number wouldn’t do any good. Unlike most people, I still had a landline. Ever since that night, I’d been terrified of being in a position where I needed help and couldn’t get it. Having a landline made me feel safer because it gave me two different ways to call out. If one wasn’t working, the other could still possibly work.
I could try talking to someone at the prison, but I doubted they’d restrict outgoing phone calls without a real reason, maybe not without a court order. Since I’d never let it get to the point of actually talking to him, I couldn’t claim he was threatening me. I had no clue why he was calling. It could’ve been to threaten me. Or yell at me. Or a dozen other reasons I couldn’t think of right now.
If I called the prison, I’d simply be a daughter not wanting to speak with her incarcerated father. Unless, of course, I wanted to explain that the reason I didn’t want to talk to my father was because I was one of his victims.
I needed someone else to reach out for me. I hated asking for help, but I hated more the sick feeling in my stomach when I thought of how many times I was going to hear the phone ring and wonder if it was him. I’d spent too much of my life dealing with the consequences of what happened that day. I finally felt like I was moving past it, and I couldn’t let his persistence change that.
Clay.
Clay worked at the FBI. He could contact the prison or whoever he needed to talk to, use his position. Even though the FBI had no jurisdiction over things like this, he could make it a personal favor.
I needed to talk to him.
Today.
* * *
“I’ll makesome calls this afternoon,” Clay promised.
“You don’t have to rush,” I said as I set down what was left of my chicken sandwich. “Whenever you have the time.”
“I’m not letting that…man take one more moment of your life from you,” he insisted. His tone was even, but there was no hiding the fury in his eyes. “In fact, no more talking about him. Tell me about how things are going at Burkart Investigations.”
The knot in my stomach loosened, and I smiled. Clay would take care of things for me like the good friend he was, and I’d be able to focus on the rest of my life.
