Page 100 of Free to Run
Once the door closes behind him, Caleb asks me, “Do you ever wonder if he’s really the one in charge around here?”
Feeling the first glimmer of hope since this morning, I respond. “Frequently. But then I remember you hired him and I feel better about life.”
We exchange brief smiles before sitting down to start strategizing how to find my Alison.
When we’re done, the pieces of my iPad are still on the floor, but I leave knowing I have to talk to the Freemans.
I’m not sure what I’d rather do—face Alison’s family or be shot again.
Either. As long as Alison comes back to me.
39
Melody
“You just couldn’t leave him alone, could you, Melody?” I hear through the plastic phone attached to the wall. There’s a face I haven’t seen in close to five years.
Since the last time I got into a “situation.” When he made me change my name for my own “protection.”
“Father,” I say respectfully. I dare not use any other tone right now.
He holds my fate in his hands once again.
And my ability to get out to get to Keene.
“You promised me that if I helped you start a new life, you would get help. You swore you did. You swore this to both your mother and me.” He takes a deep breath.
I look at the difference five years has made on his face. He’s aged. His hair, which had been more salt than pepper, is now fully gray. His eyes, dark like my own, are tired.
Disappointed and infuriated.
After all, when you’re a judge, you have big issues weighing on your shoulders.
“How many others have there been, Melody? Other than the two you got caught for?” he demands.
I can’t answer. I don’t know.
It started so long ago. My high school biology teacher was the first. I smile with relish, remembering the way I improved my grade for the year. Blinking back into focus, I see nothing but disgust on his face.
“This time, you stand on your own, Melody. I won’t help you. Not financially, not with counsel.”
Not with Keene. It takes me half a second to realize that.
I jump up and bang at the glass in between us. “You bastard! You were never there for me! Never! You were always too busy for me!” I scream at him.
His expression never changes. “I was busy, Melody, yes. But I was never too busy for you.”
“Liar!” I scream.
“There’s nothing I can do to help you now.” My father stands, the phone still in his hand. “Nothing your mother can do.” My father shakes his head. “When they prosecute you, we won’t be there to support you.” He takes in a deep breath.
My hand not holding the phone runs through my hair agitatedly. I’m waiting for him to drop the bomb.
There’s always one with Judge Arthur McDonald, United States Supreme Court Justice. The man who made his name in the judiciary world when he sentenced the man behind the South Carolina human trafficking ring to 144 years in prison.
His star has been on the rise ever since while mine exploded.
“We’ll be there to support the prosecution.” He removes the phone from his ear and hangs up.
