EXCERPT
After dropping off my daughter and parking my car, I walk into the empty, closed club, pulling the ringing cell out of my purse to answer.
“Hello.”
“Is this Brooklyn James?”
“Who is this?”
I can’t make out the noise in the background on the line, wondering if it’s just a bad connection or if she’s really somewhere that loud. “My name is Mary, and I’m with the Texas Department of Criminal Justice. I’m calling to advise you that your husband has been released from custody.”
The world sways around me, and I wonder if I heard her correctly. I swallow even though my mouth is dry and grip the rail on the bar next to me, steadying myself as I choke out, “What?”
“He was released three days ago.” She says it as if it’s nothing. As if she might not have just destroyed my life.
He’s been out for three days?
But why is she calling? It doesn’t even make sense.
“Why are you notifying me? He wasn’t arrested for assaulting me. You guys don’t do that for DWI, do you?”
“Yes, I understand that, and no ma’am, we don’t. When his file was being processed, there was a request that you be notified. I apologize for the delay, but we’ve been short-staffed here due to budget cuts.”
I sit on a barstool, glancing around to make sure no one else is here. What if a vendor is walking around? Or the bartender came in early, and I didn’t notice his car in the parking lot? I’ve worked hard to keep this part of my life in the shadows, away from almost everyone. “Can you tell me who made the request?”
“I’m afraid not. We can’t release that information. I’m sorry.”
I blow out a breath, having figured as much. But you never know when you’ll get that one person who will bend the rules, or simply doesn’t know the rules. “Um, okay then. Thanks, Mary.” What else do I say? Thanks for destroying my life?
“You’re welcome, ma’am. Have a nice evening.”
The conversation ends, and I put the phone back in my purse without thinking. I’ve told myself that I would know what to do when this happened. I’ve had a mental checklist for close to two years now.
Call Ashley and let her know.
Call the school.
Consider changing my name, my daughter’s name. Why didn’t I leave Dallas? Why did I stay here and make it so simple to find me?
I should take the money, turn around now, and go. Fetch my child, pack, and never look back. His mother knows how to find me. My heart beats too fast in my chest. I close my eyes, considering every choice I’ve made in all these years, making no move to hide from him. No move to run once I had the means to get away.
What was I thinking? Fuck.
No, scratch that. I won’t run. I won’t hide. I’ve been training, and I’ve been shooting; I know how to handle the gun, and myself. I’m strong now. I can do this. I have to. Because he will show up. He will find me.
About the Author—
An emotional thriller I think.
ReplyDelete