Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 160684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 803(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 803(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
“Because you didn’t get your way?”
All right. That made her sound slightly petty.
“Because you’re being unreasonable.”
“How’d you plan on getting to work if Raul didn’t pick you up, Spitfire?”
“Um, on the bus.”
“So you’d rather take the bus, walk in the cold from the bus stop to here, pay for a ticket, sit among strangers who could be anyone. One of them could have a weapon, a gun or a knife. They could be in a bad mood that day, see you and decide that you remind them of their ex-wife who has been jacking them around, and they’ll take their anger out on you. Is that what you want?”
“Well, no,” she said faintly. And now she was feeling somewhat terrified of the bus. Which was not good since it was her main mode of transport when she wasn’t at work.
“So you’re going to be mad at me for wanting to keep you safe from some knife-wielding madman with a vendetta against his ex-wife?”
“When you put it like that . . . although don’t you think that’s unlikely?”
“Always found it’s best to plan for the worst. Means there’s less chance of a nasty surprise.”
Wow. Really? That was kind of a sad way to live.
Then again, she did the opposite. Always thought the best was going to happen . . . and was constantly let down.
“But what about everyone else here? Do you pick all of them up?”
“Most of them drive.” Reaching over, he grabbed a piece of brownie. “Behave yourself.”
Behave herself? She always behaved herself. She frowned as she watched him walk out of the door.
And then it occurred to her that he said that most of them drove here. What about the ones that didn’t? Was Raul busy traveling all over the city, picking them up?
Somehow, she thought not. So why was she special?
14
Effie’s phone rang as she rushed into the office.
By the time she got to the desk, the phone had stopped, and so she set her stuff down before stretching her back.
It had been pretty good lately, but sometimes, it played up. Like right now.
She set down her treats for the day and pulled her phone out. Another unknown number.
What the heck?
She was damn sick of this.
That was the third time someone had called her and hung up in the last two weeks.
It rang again and anger filled her.
“Listen,” she said into the phone. “I am sick of this. If you keep calling me and hanging up, I am going to the cops.”
It was an empty threat. But the person on the other end didn’t know that. And she was done. Those phone calls where no one was on the other line . . . they scared her.
Effie had spent too much time being scared. Scared to let Joe know how she felt. Afraid to let go of him when he died. Terrified she’d mess Brooks up for life. Petrified she’d lose Brooks too.
Worried all the time. About everything.
So she really didn’t need some fucking asshole calling her and hanging up and making life harder for her.
However, the person on the other end didn’t hang up. Nope, they cleared their throat. That was new. They never usually made a noise before hanging up.
“Ms. Stephenson?”
“Who is this?” she demanded. “And why do you keep calling me then hanging up? That’s really rude.”
“Um, I don’t believe that I have done that.”
Okay, she was beginning to think that perhaps the man on the other end of the line wasn’t her prank caller.
“Oh, who’re you?”
“My name is Jonas Real. I’m a lawyer.”
“A lawyer?” she asked, frowning. Why would a lawyer be calling her?
“Yes, I represent Tanya Ford. I believe you currently have custody of her son, uh, Brooks Ford.”
“His name isn’t Brooks Ford.” Stupid name. Something Tanya had given him because she thought it was funny. “It’s Brooks Keaton.” That was Joe’s last name, and he’d made certain that Brooks had it after Tanya had gone nuts.
“Right. My apologies. You’re correct.”
“Why are you calling me?” Her heart was racing.
She’s in jail. There’s nothing she can do.
“Ms. Ford would like to get in touch with her son, Brooks.”
“Excuse me?”
“She would like to get in touch with him. To call him. Perhaps arrange visitation.”
“You . . . what . . . she . . . huh?” White noise was filling her head so she could barely hear him as he repeated himself.
Didn’t matter how many times he said it. She still wouldn’t believe it.
Why the hell did that bitch think she got to get in contact with Brooks? She wasn’t getting anywhere near him. And was she completely bonkers? Did she really think it was a good idea for her sixteen-year-old to visit her in prison?
No. Nope.
“Ms. Stephenson? Are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“Do you think you could arrange for Brooks to take some calls from his mother?”