twenty-nine

The phone rang. Nell struggled out of sleep to answer it. The foreboding came back; a few nights with no calls and she’d hoped it might be over, her nights no longer disturbed by the jar of the phone.

“Hello,” she said.

Silence answered her.

“Who is this?” she demanded sharply, to keep her fear at bay.

The silence stretched and then a voice answered, “Who do you think this is?”

Nell sat bolt upright. It was the voice that had woken her the other times. “What do you want?”

“What do I always want? The pleasure of your company.”

“You sick bastard …” But Nell caught herself. He wants me angry and off guard.

“Most reporters would die for a story like this, Nell. I’m doing you a favor.”

“Where do I find the body this time, you sick piece of shit?”

“There is no body. I’ve decided to mend my ways, Nell, dear.”

Nell fumbled with her cell phone; maybe she could call Doug and when he heard her end of the conversation, he would know to trace the line.

“And turn yourself over to the police?” she asked.

“I’m not that mended. But I do want to give you one piece of advice. Stay away from Doug Shaun. I don’t like him, and I don’t like you with him.”

The line went dead.

Nell sat for a moment, holding both phones in her hands, then put the bedside phone down but still held the cell phone, debating whether or not to call Doug.

Exhaustion made the decision. The caller was gone; he had undoubtedly called from an untraceable cell phone and that’s where they’d track the call to. She could stay up all night waiting while they went through that process, or she could do it in the morning. What difference will it make, she thought as she lay back down.

But before she could try to sleep, Nell got up and glanced into Josh’s room and Lizzie’s room. They were both asleep, snuggled under the covers. She also checked the locks on the front and kitchen doors before going back to bed. It was a long while before sleep returned.