Page 12 of Crashing Without Justice

“Look, I don’t know who you are or why you’re calling me, but if you call me again, I will call therealpolice and report you,” he threatened, and I could feel anger slither down the back of my spine.

How dare he!

“You better watch your back,” I warned him. “Your daughter is a criminal, and if you’re not careful, she’s going to take you down with her.”

I hung up, my heart racing with anger. What kind of monster defended a whore like Trista Preston? What kind of piece of shit didn’t honor or respect law enforcement enough to hear them out and cooperate? It also didn’t matter that I wasn’t a real police officer, either. Honestly, for all that Lloyd Preston knew, I could have been. Besides, with as much as I donated to our local police and fire department programs, I might as well be a member of the protective community. I was also very engaged with city council concerns and did my best to make a difference, so Lloyd Preston could just fuck off with his refusal to cooperate with the law.

As I began to pace the bedroom, I thought about Trista’s ex-husband. Since her father had turned out to be a bust, it was reasonable to assume that her mother would be of no help, either. They obviously had no desire to take responsibility for raising a horrible person, and so they were a dead end.

I ignored the ringing of the burner phone, knowing that it was probably her father or mother trying the unknown number for clues, but I was smarter than they were. In fact, I was smarter than Harding had ever given me credit for. People like to believe that church folks were weak because we always chose kindness over retribution, but that wasn’t true. God’s soldiers were the strongest people around, and Harding and his new piece of ass were going to learn that lesson one way or the other.

Continuing to ignore the ringing phone, I thought about the best way to approach Trista’s ex-husband. Now, while his social media accounts showed that he was in a relationship with some tramp named Ebony, that didn’t mean anything. Men were easy to manipulate if you were evil enough to use your sexual advantage on them. Again, they couldn’t help themselves.

I quickly grabbed my phone, then began scrolling through old photos. While I did my best to keep my appearance up, there was no fighting the hands of time, and at forty-four, I was accepting of what I looked like now,which was in no comparison to what I had looked like twenty years ago. I was still me, but I had the wrinkles, the bits of flabby skin, and my complexion no longer glowed like it’d had in my twenties and thirties. So, to lure Frank Indigo away from his current squeeze, I was going to have to get creative, especially if I wasn’t his type. Where his ex-wife and current girlfriend were brunettes, I had red hair that didn’t always appeal to all men.

Deciding to fight fire with fire, I took a quick picture of some cleavage, then added some filters to make the photo look sultry. I sent it to Frank in a private message, hoping that he was on social media enough to see it soon. The plan was to play it off as a mistake, letting him believe that I’d meant to send it to someone else.

As I waited for Frank’s reply, I pulled up my own account, and the number of likes on my latest post were impressive. People were really identifying with what I was going through, and their support meant everything to me. It showed that I wasn’t alone in all this, and that was the help that I needed to see this through.

Watching your children have their hearts broken is always worse than your own broken heart, but that pain can also unite you in a way that you hadn’t imagined. Together, my children and I, we will get through these troubling times, and we will come out stronger on the other side.

I posted my latest thoughts, then realized that I still had to speak to my kids about what Harding had done. They needed to be warned that their lives were about to be turned upside down, and I needed to be the one to deliver that harsh news.

After all, it wasn’t like their father gave a shit.

Chapter 9

Harding~

The banging on the hotel room door snapped me out of a dead sleep, one which I hadn’t thought possible. I was feeling the weight of everything very heavily, and if I didn’t get my shit together before Monday, then I was going to be a danger to myself and others while on the job. Even if I didn’t deserve it, I needed rest. However, my guess was that it was Paige banging on the door, so rest was not going to happen tonight.

Throwing on a pair of pajama pants, I quickly glanced at the clock on the nightstand, and I was surprised to see that it was only eight in the evening. How could it be so early, yet feel so damn late? Dinner with my parents felt like a lifetime ago now.

When the banging started again, I made my way to the door, not needing to get kicked out of here for disturbing the peace. This hotel was close to town and the office, and I needed all the help that I could get right now. However, when I finally swung the door open, it wasn’t Paige standing on the other side. Instead, Trista stood before me, and she looked as badly as I felt.

“What’s going on?” I immediately asked, knowing that she wouldn’t just come here for no reason. While we weren’t exactly hiding what we’d done, we were still trying to respect how delicate the situation was. “Are you okay?”

Trista muscled her way past me, and dread began to settle in the pit of my stomach as I closed the door to the suite. “No, I’m not okay.”

“What happened?”

She stopped in the middle of the room, then turned to face me. “That…thatpersoncalled my father, Harding,” she said, flooring me. “She called him, pretending to be a cop, telling him that I was under investigation for fraud or something stupid like that.”

“What?” I shook my head. “What…no…no way…”

Her brows shot upward. “She also sent me a text, threatening mychildren.”

That had my back straightening immediately. “What are you talking about? I mean…I know…I know she’s…I know that Paige is having a difficult time, but she’d never threaten a child, Trista.”

Her green eyes blazed with an anger that I’d never seen before, but I couldn’t fault if she was telling the truth. “Check my phone,” she said as she stretched her hand out, the device sitting in her palm. “See for yourself.”

I grabbed her phone, praying that this was just one big misunderstanding. However, when I looked at the text that Trista had kept on the screen, my stomach nearly emptied on the carpet.

Unknown:Karma is real n ur going to get what’s coming 2 u. U might think that ur safe, and maybe u r, but ur comeuppance might not come n the form of sumthing happening 2 u. Maybe ur children will end up paying 4 ur sins. Maybe ur happiness will come at the cost of ur children’s happiness. Maybe ur children will b better off being raised by sum1 that DOESN’T think it’s ok 2 steal another woman’s husband. Watch urself, and if I were u, I’d keep a better eye on my children.

“Jesus Christ,” I whispered, not wanting to believe what I’d just read. “How…how did she even get your phone number?”

“Who gives a fuck about that?” Trista snapped. “She probably paid one of those sites, especially since she managed to get my dad’s phone number as well.”

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