Chapter 7: What He Did Next
He called Dana's phone that evening.
She was in my kitchen feeding Lily when it rang.
She looked at the screen, and her face went the careful kind of still that meant she recognized the number.
"He's not supposed to contact you," I said.
"No," she agreed.
She put the phone on the table and let it ring.
It rang four times.
Then it stopped.
Then it rang again.
Dana picked it up and put it on speaker.
"I just want to talk," Victor said.
His voice was calm.
Reasonable.
The voice of a man who had used it to convince people of things for a long time.
"No lawyers.
Just a conversation."
"This call is being recorded," Dana said.
A pause.
"That's fine.
I have nothing to hide."
"Then you can say whatever you want to say at the hearing."
"The hearing." He let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
"Dana.
Can I call you Dana?
I know you think you understand what happened.
I know Patrice told you things.
But Patrice is — she's not well.
She hasn't been well for a long time.
Everything she told you is colored by that."
"Okay," Dana said.
"I loved her.
I want you to know that.
Whatever else you've been told, I loved her.
And I love that little girl.
I just want the chance to — "
"Victor," Dana said.
"Where is Sandra Briggs right now?"
Silence.
"I don't know what you — "
"Her children didn't go to school today," Dana said.
"She called Agent Reeves this morning.
She said someone had been parked outside her house overnight."
Nothing from the phone.
"If anything happens to Sandra," Dana said, "or to her children, or to Patrice, or to anyone connected to this case — that recording you just said you were fine with goes directly to the federal prosecutor who has been waiting fourteen months to hear your voice say something useful." She paused.
"Do you understand me?"
The line was quiet for a long time.
"You don't know what you've gotten yourself into," he said.
The reasonable voice was gone.
"I slept in my car for six days watching your house," Dana said.
"I think I have a reasonable idea."
He hung up.
Dana set the phone down on the table.
She looked at Lily, who had fallen asleep mid-bottle, one small fist pressed against her own cheek.
"Did you actually record it?" I asked.
"Reeves set it up this morning," Dana said.
"The moment he called from that number, it went straight to her."
My phone buzzed on the counter.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
I picked it up.
It read: *Tell your daughter she should have stayed home.*
I showed it to Dana.
She took my phone, photographed the screen with hers, and sent it without a word.
Then she looked at me.
"Pack a bag, Mom," she said.
"For you and the kids.
Just a few days."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere he doesn't know about."
May you like
I didn't argue.
I went to pack.
