Chapter 7 - What He Did Next
He called Renee's phone that night.
She was at my kitchen table feeding Grace when it rang. She turned the screen toward me. She recognized the number, I could tell, because her whole face went smooth and careful.
"He's not allowed to contact you," I said.
"No," she agreed. She set the phone on the table and let it ring.
Four rings. Silence. Then it started again.
Renee picked it up and hit speaker.
"I just want to talk," Roland said. His voice was warm. Easy. The voice of a man who'd talked people into things his whole life. "No lawyers. Just you and me. Five minutes."
"This call is being recorded," Renee said.
A beat. "That's fine. I've got nothing to hide."
"Then save it for the courtroom."
"The courtroom." He let out a breath that was nearly a laugh. "Renee. It is Renee, right? I know you think you've got the full picture. I know Kayla told you things. But Kayla is not well. She hasn't been well for a long time. Everything that came out of her mouth is filtered through that."
"Okay," Renee said.
"I loved her. I need you to hear that, whatever else you've been told. And I love that little girl more than anything. I just want a chance to—"
"Roland," Renee said. "Where is Denise Hartley tonight?"
Nothing.
"I don't know what you're—"
"Her kids didn't go to school today," Renee said. "She called Agent Marsh this morning. Said there was a car sitting outside her house all night with someone in it."
The line stayed quiet.
"If anything happens to Denise," Renee said, "or her kids, or Kayla, or anybody with their name on this case — that recording you just told me you were fine with goes straight to the federal prosecutor who has been waiting fourteen months to hear your voice say something useful." She paused. "Are we clear?"
The silence stretched out long.
"You have no idea what you've walked into," he said. The easy voice was gone.
"I slept in my car outside your house for six nights," Renee said. "I think I've got a pretty good idea."
He hung up.
Renee set the phone down. She looked at Grace, asleep with the bottle half-finished and one fist pressed to her own cheek.
"Was it actually recording?" I asked.
"Marsh set it up this morning," Renee said. "The second he dialed that number, it fed straight to her."
My phone went off on the counter. A text. Number I didn't know.
I picked it up.
*Tell your daughter she should have stayed home.*
I turned it around so Renee could see.
She took my phone, photographed the screen with her own, and sent it somewhere without a word. Then she looked at me.
"Pack a bag, Mom. You and the kids. A few days' worth."
"Where are we going?"
May you like
"Somewhere that isn't on any piece of paper with my name on it."
I didn't argue. I went to pack.
