Page 42 of Atlas
“Ha. I’ve missed your dry sense of humor.”
She laughed. “Remember that when I send my bill for sorting yer international trouble.”
CHAPTER 10
Friend or Foe
Jolene
I stared at the text on my phone from Velna Zakis. For the last hour, I’d debated with myself whether or not to call her.
Atlas had picked up my things from my apartment before he went to Solver Industries for some critical meetings. I’d showered, changed clothes, napped a little, and been out shopping twice — the first time I brought back all the ingredients needed to cook my chicken pot-pie. The second time, I bought a baking dish since it turned out on closer inspection, that Atlas had almost no equipment in his kitchen to bake anything.
Now, that the pot-pie was in the oven, and a lovely smell of home-cooked food was spreading in this beautiful apartment, I had little to do but go crazy with worry about the bleakness of my situation.
Back in California, Niklavs Zakis had made my life miserable. Coming to Chicago was supposed to be my chance at a new life without fear of him, but it’d been less than two months before he’d found me.
The police officer whom I’d spoken with this morning hadn’t called me back, and when I called him for an update half an hour ago, a different officer had told me he’d gone home for the day. The wait was killing me. I wanted answers.
I had read Velna’s text a thousand times, but it still made little sense to me how she had my phone number and why she would warn me. It wasn’t just Niklavs who had lost his son; Velna had too.
With my hands shaking, I pressed the call button and felt my heart race in my chest.
“Hello.”
Hearing Velna’s voice made me panic and hang up the phone. With a hand to my throat, I sucked in a deep breath to steady myself. I had made unpleasant phone calls before without reacting this way. My brain was trying to explain my reaction.
It’s your nervous system connecting her to the trauma of being harassed and threatened by her husband for so long. That has to be it.
I jumped in my seat when my phone rang.
It’s her.
Just answer.
It should be easy enough to press a button, but a little voice inside me warned not to do it.
She might have answers, though.
I closed my eyes when I pressed answer and brought the phone to my ear. “Hello.”
“Is this Jolene Fisher?”
“Yes.” My hand squeezed against my closed eyes as if I wanted no part of this.
“Did you see my husband?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Velna was quiet.
“Have you heard from him?” I asked.
“No.”
“Why did you warn me?”
Again there was silence on the line.
