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“Now you’re mocking me, too.”
“I’m not. I’m listening. And yes…perhaps trying to provide a bit of comic relief.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I know it isn’t.” He walks over to where I’m standing and brushes my hair away from my face. Then he takes me into his arms. “I’m sorry.”
“They asked if he’d made any threats.”
Greg pulls away and searches my face. “What did you say?”
“I told them he hadn’t—I mean…not directly, but—he’s a criminal.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“Which is pretty much what they said. Unless we can prove that he harmed Rocky, he hasn’t broken any laws.”
“I figured.”
“Did you get anywhere with the text messages?” My tone is hopeful, although I already know the answer. He would have said something.
“No.” He purses his lips into a tight line. “I didn’t get the chance. Not with the investors here.”
My phone rings. It’s Lucy, returning my call. I let it go to voicemail.
“Actually, speaking of—” He glances at his watch. “I have a dinner tonight.”
“Great. So where does this leave us?”
“We’re going to have to talk to the school…” He goes on, but I’m only partially listening. I’m scanning my texts. Two from Dana and one from a five-digit number. You really shouldn’t have done that.
“What?” Greg asks, cocking his head. The color has drained from my face. I hold my phone up so he can read it for himself. “Good,” he says. “Now we have something in writing. An explicit threat.”
“And still no way to prove it’s him. It’s from one of those robo-numbers.”
“It’s still better than nothing.”
“We have to do something, Greg. If the police won’t help us…we have to figure this out on our own.”
“They’ll help. They just need something to go on… they need evidence.”
“I’m not so sure,” I say. “And what if by then it’s too late?”
“As in what?”
“I don’t know. But I have a bad feeling. He isn’t just going to go away.”
Chapter Twelve
I ask Greg to skip his investor dinner, knowing that he can’t afford to, especially considering he’s already had to skip out on his pitch. I’m keenly aware of the pressure he is under. His business needs this infusion of cash. Our family needs it. Paying our mortgage depends on it.
He cannot afford to keep investing personal capital without seeing a return.
We’ve discussed him bowing out, or rather I’ve discussed it. My husband is not one to let go, which is precisely what I love about him. How can I reconcile the two? If he walks away now, he’ll lose big. Not just financially, but emotionally. Everything he is, everything he has, is quite literally tied up in making this venture work. If he doesn’t woo these investors, I’m not sure what will happen. So I understand where he’s coming from and why he has to go tonight. I’m not sure when the right time to explain to people considering investing in your tech that your family is dealing with a stalker, —and a convicted child rapist at that—but I assume this isn’t it.
Before he leaves, he puts in a call to a police officer that is a friend of a friend. Greg puts the call on speaker as the man inquires about our security system. He listens intently, and then with a hint of pity in his voice, he advises us to upgrade. He asks about our experience with firearms, and while we don’t say that we have none, that is pretty much what we mean.
I can tell this is not what he was hoping to hear, but Greg and I agreed a long time ago about guns. Back when we were pregnant with Naomi, we interviewed pediatricians. It was a question that seemed to come up every time, the question about firearms. Most parents don’t think about it until it’s too late, one of the doctors had said. Gun safety. Glad, if not a little smug that we didn’t have to worry about that, we agreed that we would never have a gun in the house.
