Chapter 11
The clock struck nine in the morning,
and I retreated back to my private study,
closing the heavy wooden door behind me,
before picking up the sleek black phone.
I dialed Pierce's direct office number,
listening to the brief,
and rhythmic ringing,
until his secretary quickly answered,
and transferred the urgent call.
Good morning,
Pierce said in his usual crisp voice,
sounding busy,
and deeply focused.
I need a favor,
I told him quietly,
keeping my voice low,
and my tone completely serious.
Aaron is being released today,
and I need you to confirm his departure,
from this state.
There was a brief pause on the line,
a moment of heavy,
and understanding silence,
before Pierce sighed softly.
I can make some discreet calls,
he offered smoothly,
and check with his parole officer,
to see if he boarded the scheduled bus.
Do it quickly,
I instructed him firmly,
feeling a tight knot form in my stomach,
as the uncertainty gnawed at my nerves.
I will call you back by noon,
Pierce promised faithfully,
and he ended the brief conversation,
leaving me alone in the quiet room.
I spent the next three hours pacing,
walking back and forth across the rug,
unable to focus on any financial reports,
or read any daily news.
My mind was trapped in a terrible loop,
playing out a hundred worst-case scenarios,
where Aaron somehow found our new address,
and destroyed the beautiful life,
that Diane had worked so hard to rebuild.
I remembered the cold panic in her eyes,
the day the bank foreclosed on our old home,
and the cruel,
and mocking laughter of our own son,
as he drove away in a luxury car,
bought with stolen funds.
That memory was a sharp knife,
cutting through any small ounce of pity,
that might have survived in my soul,
and hardening my resolve into solid iron.
Precisely at noon,
the phone on my desk rang loudly,
making me jump slightly in my chair,
before I snatched the receiver eagerly.
What did you find,
I asked immediately,
skipping any polite greetings,
and getting straight to the point.
He was released at eight this morning,
Pierce reported clinically,
and the state gave him his belongings,
including the bus ticket you provided.
Did he get on the bus,
I demanded sharply,
my grip tightening on the plastic phone.
The parole officer says he did not,
Pierce answered with a heavy sigh,
he walked out of the bus terminal,
and disappeared into the busy downtown area.
The breath caught painfully in my throat,
and a cold wave of dread washed over me,
freezing my blood,
and chilling my tired bones.
He is still here,
I whispered in disbelief,
staring blindly at the blank wall.
I will hire private security,
Pierce suggested quickly,
to watch your property,
and keep an eye on the surrounding streets.
Do it,
I agreed without any hesitation,
spare absolutely no expense,
and keep him far away from Diane.
I hung up the phone with shaking hands,
realizing that my quiet,
May you like
and peaceful nightmare,
had only just begun.
