Page 6 of Rear View
He exhaled a heavy breath. “I know who you are, Ryah.”
Zoya scowled and flipped off my phone.
Was that just who Maynard was? Or was that just who he was with me? I’d specifically requested him for my case after he’d done a talk about women’s safety on campus. Worst decision ever, seeing as he was an “all talk, no action” kinda man.
My throat closed over. I loathed these calls. Loathed second-guessing myself and being dismissed likeIwas the problem, instead of the guy who’d perpetrated everything in the first place.
Standtall. A bit tough for my five-foot-four butt to do. Regardless, I repeated it in my head like a rallying cry—a weak and feebly whispered one, but a rallying cry, nonetheless. In truth, if it wasn’t for Zoya, I might never have bothered with the calls at all. It wasn’t like they’d ever helped.
I cleared my throat. “I wondered if there’s been any progress on my case?” I asked, my tone meeker than I intended.
Zoya gave a thumbs-up.
“If there was anything new, I’d call you, Miss Nolan,” Maynard said.
My frown was deep.
“Without a name or description, we have nothing to go on.” Maynard was older, close to retirement, a fact he’d shared countless times before. As if he’d been dry begging to be left alone. “Unless you’re calling to offer new information, please, just let me do my job.”
Zoya’s hand twitched like she itched to grab the phone.
I internally scoffed.Do his job?It’d been two years sincehe’dshown up. Two years in which the EPD hadmade less than zero progress. Not even a restraining order.
Stand tall. Stand tall. Stand tall!
“I forwarded you more of his messages.” Tugging a pen from the front pocket of my hand-me-down leather messenger bag, I chewed its cap. A chunk of the blue plastic broke off and scraped against my tongue. I gagged when it slid down my throat.
Zoya smacked the pen away from my mouth.
The clanking of keys carried through the speaker. “And I’ve added them to your file, but ultimately, they give us nothing.”
Thought it gave them evidence, but okay.
“Cybercrimes are difficult, Miss Nolan. The culprits are often never found. Without something tangible, we’re dead in the water.”
But it hadn’t beenjusta cybercrime, a fact he knew well. “Can’t you run one of those scans on my phone?”
“We’ve discussed this, Miss Nolan. We don’t have the resources to scan the phone of every person being harassed.”
Harassed? That’s what he thought this was?Harassment?My mouth thinned into a hard line. “I didn’t say—”
“Do you have any more leads to offer?”
“Thought finding leads was his responsibility,” Zoya mumbled.
I used to think that too, but I’d given up that naive trust a long time ago. My gaze fell, along with my shoulders. “No.”
“Then I need to go. If anything changes, let me know.” There was a shuffling on the line. “You have a nice day, Miss Nolan.”
The call ended.
Zoya straightened. “What a dick.”
“The dickiest,” I said, then shoved the device away. “I don’t even know why I bother anymore.”
“Because, in your own words, you”—she did air quotes to mimic me—“‘need a paper trail.’”
I shook my head. Lots of good it did me. Rubbing the back of my neck, I pulled out my notebook and scribbled everything down. Simple details to log the information. Date. Time. Contact made. What was discussed. I’d transfer it to my computer later, but it was the same every time. And it was always the same outcome: nothing.
