Page 39 of Daddy’s Protecting

“Yes. I haven’t left. I haven’t even ventured outside. I didn’t know how close I needed to stay.”

He checked off her answer on the recording sheet, as he had her other responses. “Who is the owner of this house?”

“Dirk O’Roark.”

“Has he interacted online following your directions?”

“No, sir. He’s a lawyer. He knows that would get me in trouble.”

Again, Mr. Flanigan made a check mark in the appropriate box before looking up at her. Surveying the space between them, he pushed the chair between them out. “Your ankle bracelet is on your right leg. Please place your ankle on the seat here and raise your pant leg so I can inspect the number.”

Cynthia followed his directions and lifted her jeans out of the way. She jumped when he rotated the device around slightly until the numbers appeared. Tilting it for the best view, Mr. Flanigan picked up his phone and took two photos. Using the pictures, he expanded the image so he could copy the numbers on the visit form. Those he compared to the registered numbers of the ankle bracelet that had been recorded for her use.

Satisfied, he looked up and nodded. “Thank you, Ms. Grant.”

Withdrawing a card from his messenger bag, he handed it to her. “Here is my contact information. If you have important questions or concerns, you may contact me here. Your device has an acceptable range that you may operate within. You may go to the mailbox at the front of the house or into the backyard as long as it’s not a mile deep into the woods. If you need to go to the doctor or hospital, call my phone and leave a message. That will register in advance your variance from the perimeter of the zone they have restricted you to, and I will investigate. This is not the time to go have your nails or hair done or go through a drive-thru for tacos. Remain offline and continue your exemplary conduct. Do you have questions for me?”

“Will you be back next week?” she asked.

“I could be back later this afternoon or next month. Continue to stay in your assigned location,” he answered with an expression that told her she’d asked the wrong question.

“I’ll be here. I promise. I don’t want to go back to jail. It… It was awful,” she assured him.

“Good.” Mr. Flanigan stood and walked to the door.

Cynthia trailed behind him, hoping she hadn’t screwed up too badly. He didn’t speak again, but walked through the door and closed it quietly behind him.

Scrambling over to the couch, she lifted Bullyboo into her arms and squeezed him tight against her chest.Please let everything be alright! I don’t want to go back to jail.

When her heart rate had settled down, Cynthia realized she needed to tell her Daddy. Quickly, she grabbed her phone and scrolled to the app. Freezing instantly with fright, she found a message waited for her. A text from Eddie.

Should I open it?

Shaking, she took a screenshot of the notification without opening it and pulled up a new message to send to Dirk.

Daddy! James Flanigan was here to check on me. It was scary. He asked me a series of questions and recorded my answers. I don’t think I screwed up during the interview.

Pressing send, she immediately started a new entry:When I picked up my phone to send the above, there was a message from Eddie. I haven’t opened it, but I took a screenshot.After attaching the photo and dispatching it, she stared at her phone, waiting for a message.

His answer appeared in a few seconds.Forward it to me.

Pulling up the list of messages, Cynthia clicked on it and followed his instructions before reading it herself.

That fancy lawyer won’t get you off. We both know you wanted the insurance money that Stan would have gotten. How do you sleep at night after killing my parents?

Her lower jaw dropped open in shock at the attached picture. The angle of the shot made it look like she was poised to tamper with the gas line instead of tightening the leaking water valve.

Cynthia wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth as she tried to figure out what to do. She’d sent the message and picture to Dirk. He wouldn’t ever look at her the same. She looked so guilty in the picture, her pissed-off expression making it look like she was retaliating against someone.

I should leave.

Her phone dinged with a message.Got him.

Staring at the phone, Cynthia felt her pulse decrease. Her Daddy got something from the message or from the picture. His brilliant mind had figured out how to use Eddie’s words against him. A small kernel of hope grew inside her. If anyone could help her, it would be Dirk.

She wanted to send him a thousand messages and pinpoint what he’d noted, but Cynthia knew he was very busy, working on behalf of Edgewater Industries. Slowly, she set her phone down on the coffee table and sat back against the soft cushions of the couch. She could see the phone if another message appeared, but her phone would be out of range for her to pick up.

Clutching Bullyboo to her chest, Cynthia chose an animated movie to watch. She needed something to keep herself from going crazy as she waited for him to come home. When that couldn’t keep her attention, Cynthia headed for the kitchen to prepare something complicated and time-consuming. Cooking would be her escape.

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