Chapter 5: What Gary Pruitt Wanted
I showed Rebecca the screen.
She read it without touching the phone.
Her jaw tightened but her hands stayed flat on the table.
"He's done this before," she said.
"The messages.
The warnings.
He thinks it works."
"Has it?"
She looked at me steadily.
"It used to."
I picked up the phone and called Carol back.
I read her both messages word for word and asked her what our options were.
"Document everything," she said.
"Screenshot, timestamp, save to a separate account.
If he escalates to a third contact, you have the foundation for a harassment filing.
Do you want me to reach out to someone local?"
"Not yet.
But stay close."
I ended the call and looked at Rebecca.
"I want to meet him."
"Absolutely not."
"Not alone.
Not without you knowing.
But I want to look at him and I want him to understand that this situation has changed."
"Daniel, he's not rational.
You can't reason with him."
"I'm not planning to reason with him."
She studied my face.
"What are you planning?"
"To make it clear that Sophie now has people around her who know how to use a lawyer."
Two days later, Gary Pruitt walked into the coffee shop on Millbrook's main street at the time Carol had arranged through a mutual contact — a former colleague of Gary's who owed her a favor and didn't ask questions.
He was shorter than I expected.
Mid-forties, heavy through the shoulders, with the particular confidence of a man who had never been seriously challenged.
He saw me at the corner table and stopped walking for just a moment before he recovered and came over.
He didn't sit down.
"You're the wish guy," he said.
"Sit down, Gary."
"I'll stand."
"Suit yourself." I kept my voice level.
"I got your messages."
"Then you know where this is going."
"I know where you think it's going." I set my phone on the table face-up.
Both messages visible.
"I've forwarded these to my legal team and to a contact at the county sheriff's office.
One more contact from you — one — and we file.
Do you understand me?"
Something moved behind his eyes.
Not fear exactly.
Recalculation.
"Rebecca tell you about the paternity claim?" he said.
"She told me it was dismissed."
"For now." He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down after all.
"I've got new information.
I'm planning to refile."
"On what basis?"
"On the basis that I've got a witness who'll say Rebecca told her Sophie was mine.
Back when Sophie was born." He leaned forward slightly.
"That changes things."
I looked at him for a moment.
"Gary.
Sophie is terminally ill.
She has months, not years.
Whatever game you think you're playing — whatever leverage you think you have — I need you to understand something." I leaned forward to match him.
"I will spend every resource I have making sure that child's remaining time is peaceful and protected.
That is not a threat.
It is a statement of fact.
If you file anything, if you contact me or Rebecca again, if you come within a hundred feet of that house — I will make it my full-time occupation to ensure that every person in this town knows exactly who you are and what you've done."
The coffee shop was quiet around us.
A woman at the next table had stopped pretending to read her newspaper.
Gary sat back.
His jaw worked.
"You don't know what you're getting into," he said.
"You said that already." I stood up.
"We're done here."
I was at the door when he called after me.
"She never told you the whole truth, you know." His voice carried across the room.
"Ask her what happened the summer before graduation.
Ask her why she really left."
May you like
I pushed through the door without turning around.
But my hand on the door handle was not entirely steady.
