Page 20 of The Ruckup
When I get to the second building, I decide to change my tactic. I do a quick Google search, figure out how to set up a Google voice number, and use that for my next series of calls.
When Mrs. Bennett answers, I mark her as alive and hang up, grinning wide over not having to listen to her lament the loss of her perky tits.
I might be a genius.
Continuing down the line, I mark off everyone who answers before immediately hanging up. Since the phone number isn’t easily identifiable—and the people who live here are nowhere near technologically savvy—they won’t know it’s me. And I don’tfeel bad about it since the intentions behind what I’m doing are good.
Even if they’re also a little self-serving.
I manage to plow through the next two buildings, getting hold of everyone but two tenants. I’m getting ready to start on the fourth building, when the electronic bell on my office door dings.
I look up, expecting to see the detective again, but instead, my favorite trio of tenants walks in. Sylvia, Sharon, and Betty file right into my office, steps quick, expressions making it easy to guess what they’re here to discuss.
“I don’t know who was in the car.” I consider suggesting they go talk to the detective, but I’m positive he doesn’t have what it takes to handle all three of these women at the same time. Instead, I tell them what I do know. “I’ve called everyone in buildings four, five, and six, and there were only two I couldn’t reach.” I glance down at my list, stomach clenching as I read off the names. “Agnes Whitmore and Eugene Goodwin.”
Sylvia exchanges looks with Sharon and Betty before she tells me, “It’s not Agnes. She’s in Baltimore visiting her granddaughter.” But no one comments on the likelihood Eugene could have been the person in the car.
And that concerns me.
“What?” I scan the three of them, trying to read their expressions. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Sharon scrunches her face up, tipping her head from side to side. “It’s possible Eugene could have potentially been dabbling in some side hobbies that might have resulted in a few people preferring him to be…” Her voice trails off.
“Dead.” Betty finishes for her.
Are they kidding? Like the last time they were in my office, discussing the freaking Mafia, I can’t tell if they’re serious or not.
“What sort of hobbies does one pursue that ends up with people wanting them dead?” I ask the question slowly, trying to phrase it just right.
Because if these women aren’t kidding, the last thing I need to deal with is someone thinking I know shit I’m not supposed to.
Sylvia is the one tipping her head from side to side now, and I can’t help but think that might be what they do when they can’t figure out how best to lie to me. “A little of this. A little of that.”
The lack of specifics they’re willing to offer up on the situation is concerning. “Is there anything I need to be worried about?”
“Absolutely not.”
“No.”
“Maybe.”
The three women answer in unison, with Sharon and Betty’s heads snapping toward Sylvia when her answer doesn’t match theirs. She throws both hands up. “What do you want me to say? The poor girl already has an ex-husband who would love to get his hands on her. She needs to know he might not be the only problem that could find its way here.”
I swallow hard, my concerns about the Mafia and Eugene’s hobbies gone like dust in the wind.
I worry every day that Drake will find me. I have a protective order, but I imagine it’s about as effective at keeping me safe asthe paper it’s printed on. “Do you really think Drake would come here?”
All three women just stare at me, their silence offering up an answer even if their mouths don’t.
“It’s okay, honey.” Sharon comes around my desk, resting her hand on my shoulder. “Everybody here is looking out for you. If that asshole shows up, he’s going to regret it.” She gives me a wink. “Especially when he comes face-to-face with that giant hunk of man who’s been keeping you company.”
Sharon’s reassurance is intended to make me feel better, but it doesn’t. Instead, her words remind me that my presence alone could be dangerous to the people around me. Drake was awful before I left him, but in the months since, he’s grown increasingly angry.
And increasingly unhinged.
He’s effectively used the courts against me. Cost me every cent he possibly could. My lawyer has to walk me to and from my car when we’re required to make court appearances because Drake waited for me to arrive at our first hearing and attempted to get into my car before I’d even shifted into park, taking a swing at the windshield with his fist when the door was locked.
And then, during an attempt our attorneys made at mediation during one of those hearings, he made a veiled threat to kill me.
