Page 166 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“You bring her back! This instant!”
“No.”
I let him yell at me for a full five minutes without saying more than yes or no. When he finally subsides into a seething silence at the other end of the phone, I simply say, “Cynnie’s safe with me. This is my number if you need to reach me.”
“I’ll call the police,” he snarls.
“Go ahead,” I say.
I don’t argue with him. I don’t say she’s a legal adult and can go where she wants, when she wants. I don’t say I have a friend on the force, well, a friend of a friend, who I can call. I don’t even say that I can probably hack in and squash any missing person report he files.
I promised myself at the start of these calls that I wasn’t going to engage with Cynnie’s family. I’m creating her safe space. An impenetrable wall they can throw themselves against. A wall with a gate only Cynnie can unlock when she feels ready. Walls don’t engage. They don’t fire back. They’re simply walls.
“I’ll have her declared incompetent. I’ll have her committed.”
I scoff. “You can try. I’m going to hang up now. You know how to reach me if you need to.”
I’m the one to end this call.
I wait for him to call back, but he doesn’t. I pop Manny a text so he has a head’s up in case Jun carries out on any of his threats and I need to call in some favors.
The person who calls next is Cynnie’s grandmother. That’s a hard call. She asks to speak to Cynnie and when I refuse and reiterate that she’s with me, and safe, but doesn’t want to speak with her family right now, her grandmother cries. She tries to guilt-trip me. It’s her birthday. She’s an old woman. I’m making her worry. I’m keeping her from her granddaughter.
I’m a wall. I’m a wall. I’m an unbreachable wall.
I stare at the feed from my bedroom, of the woman sleeping safe in her cage-hive under my bed, surrounded by her fifty buzzies, smiling in her sleep, while I repeat the limited replieswe’ve agreed on. She’s with me. She’s safe. No, she doesn’t want to speak right now. No, she’s not coming home tomorrow. No, she won’t respond to their calls or text messages. No, I’m not sending pictures of her, but her social media feeds are active and they can see that she’s healthy and safe.
After the crying comes the anger. Cynnie’s grandmother has a mouth on her. She blasts me.
I’m a pervert. A monster. A rapist. Don’t I understand that Cynnie is different? (Yes, I do.) Delicate? (No, she’s not.) I’m keeping Cynnie from the family that loves her. I’m hurting her. I’m brainwashing her.
With her insults still stinging both my ears and my heart, I hang up. I wish I could text Jack, or Logan, or Mac, or Bren for reassurance. But they’re in Niagara Falls, celebrating Logan and Emily’s engagement. They don’t know anything about what’s happened tonight. They’re concentrating on something joyous, and I don’t want to interrupt their celebration. I also don’t want Mac to think I’m in his way. I harden my resolve to stay away from Brenna and let whatever might come of Emily’s matchmaking develop.
Instead, I text the last person in the world I ever imagined I’d turn to.
You finished beating up Lindy?
De Leon, who apparently lives with his phone welded to his hand except when he’s actually around me, since I rarely saw him use it when we were in England, immediately replies.
De Leon: Not yet. He’s got a little more punishment to bear. You didn’t mention how addictive this shit is. What a fucking rush.
I smile wryly at the phone. Yes, it is. That’s something that’s so hard to understand from the outside. Brenna tried to tell me, but I didn’t get it until I topped Cynnie.
De Leon: Why’d you message me, Max? Everything okay?
Don’t you know? I thought you had me wired to the ass-hairs.
De Leon: I turned everything off after you drove away with Escher. Like I promised I would.
Thank you for that.
I rub my thumb over the screen, making our message-string bounce. I don’t know what to say to him. This is probably a mistake.
Yer awkward, boy.
No, I’m not. Not anymore. I’m a daddy. Daddies aren’t awkward. We’re filled with Daddyness.
And I’m strong enough to reach out when I need help.
