Page 94 of Savage Daddies

My own breath suffocates me, and my throat closes up to let no more air into my lungs. With shaking hands, I grapple at my neck, trying to loosen the skin to suck in just one huff of air but…nothing.

Fiona.

I jump off the bed, locate my phone, and dial her number.

The rings continue.

And continue.

There’s a pause. A crackled, “Hello?”

“Fiona. Oh my god.”

“Are you okay?” she says. “You sound like you’re running.”

“No, not me. But you need to.”

“Run? What? Why?”

I press on. “You need to get away. It’s very important. Do you trust me?”

“Yeah, but I don’t understand why?—”

“Please. Just go. Take a backpack and fill it with water and snacks, and then run toward the desert. You’re fine. Nobody will recognize you.”

“Zoe? What’s happened? Tell me?—”

The line cuts off.

I take the phone from my ear to examine the screen—call dropped.

The world tilts off its axis, and it spins fast.

I retch, but nothing comes out. Of course it doesn’t. I haven’t eaten for hours. Hunger isn’t something my stomach knows how to feel.

I call Fiona back.

Surprisingly, the call is answered on the first ring.

“Oh my god. Fiona? Are you there?”

“What have you done, Zoe?”

Fear crunches my chest. “Father?”

The line dies.

22

POET

I spoonstale oatmeal into my mouth and contemplate whether quitting teaching was worth it. Yes, it was, I decide. For freedom and for Zoe, I would quit a million times over and serve my life behind bars.

But just let me save the girl first.

The door opens, and an unimpressed FBI officer stands behind it, ushering me out. I hold up the bowl of oatmeal to signal that I’m not done eating, but he snatches it from my hand and sets it aside.

“Follow me.”

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