Page 69 of Fallen

The next day, from Schwartz:

She posted pics of you and the kids. Didn’t know you guys had a pool. Nice!

Like her accent. Where is she from? Australia? London?

I look at Tomasetti. “Fletcher’s wife is from New Zealand,” I tell him.

He scrolls down to the next exchange.

From Fletcher:

You call my house again and I will fucking bury you. You got that?

From Schwartz:

Don’t be such a pussy. Just messing with you.

“She’s taunting him,” Tomasetti murmurs.

“Doing a pretty good job of it,” I say, but I can’t take my eyes off the screen as he scrolls to the next exchange.

This one is from Schwartz and comes the next day at two A.M.

I see yur still a deputy with Holmes County. I wonder how Sheriff Rasmussen would feel if he nu U sodomized me in the back seat of yur cruiser?

No reply.

Bet yur sweating right now.

I’m going to call him.

330-884-5667

Recognizing the number, I look at Tomasetti. “That’s Rasmussen’s home number.”

Fletcher doesn’t reply.

Rachael Schwartz doesn’t stop.

Maybe I’ll just show up and tell him everything. Maybe I’ll show up at your house and tell your pretty little wife what you do to little girls when you pull them over.

Finally, Fletcher responds.

You show up here and I’ll put a fucking bullet in your head. You got that?

From Schwartz:

Don’t be so sensitive! I’m jus kidding.

In case you’re thinking about going all batshit … don’t forget I got that insurance policy. Anything unsavory happens and presto! Out comes the proof.

“So they talked at some point,” Tomasetti says.

“What proof is she referring to?” I ask.

“Be nice to know, wouldn’t it?” he mutters. “I’ve no doubt we’ll figure it out.” He sighs. “There’s more.”

So if you can afford that pool you can afford to pay me a little something for keeping my piehole shut all these years.