Page 131 of Letters From A Stalker

“Good.”

“And Marisol got her community college placement.”

That pulls me upright faster than the repair bill did. Marisol has been at the safe house for a few months now, and my patient during the difficult period of her life.

Getting into community college is the first thing she has chosen entirely for herself since leaving her husband. “She did?”

“Found out yesterday afternoon.”

A smile reaches my face before I can stop it. “That’s great.”

“She spent the first hour insisting they probably made a mistake.”

“Of course she did.”

“I told her official acceptance emails apparently make administrative mistakes now.

“Did that help?”

“For approximately thirty seconds.”

I laugh quietly. “Tell her congratulations from me.”

“You could tell her yourself.”

“I will.”

Renee’s voice softens. “She’s proud, Kai. She just doesn’t quite know how to be proud without immediately finding a reason she shouldn’t be.”

That lands somewhere familiar enough to make my eyes drift toward the window beside my desk.

“Then remind her she doesn’t need permission.”

“I already did.”

“Good.”

Someone calls Renee’s name on the other end, followed by the muffled beginning of another conversation before she turns away from it.

“I have to deal with something involving a donated sofa that apparently refuses to fit through the front door.”

“Sounds urgent.” I huff which for normal people would be a snort. For me it sounds like a huff.

“You joke, but there are currently four adults arguing with geometry.”

“Send me the revised estimate when you get it.”

“I will, and I’ll send the mold results as soon as they come back.”

“Thanks.”

There is a brief pause before she adds, “Also, you sound exhausted.”

“Apparently everybody has an opinion today.”

“Go to bed at a normal hour sometime, Blackwood.”

The call disconnects while I’m still deciding whether dignifying that with an answer would accomplish anything. I set the phone down and let the quiet office settle around me again.