Made for You by Jenna Satterthwaite

Author:Jenna Satterthwaite
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MIRA Books
Published: 2024-05-02T19:36:07+00:00

NOW

“Vanessa! Hi! Thank you for calling me back!”

I know my voice sounds too bright, but I’m in overdrive and I can’t seem to calm down. Don’t want to calm down, because that means breaking down, because my husband is dead, but if I stop to cry, stop to process, I could be in handcuffs before I know it, and I am now Annaleigh’s only parent, and for her, I have to be strong and save my heartbreak for some future time when I can afford to let my emotions have their turn.

I just got the name of Walmart woman from Andy via text. Deborah Reeves, a name that’s been bothering me because I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere else. Andy’s other text, I didn’t acknowledge, but it’s burning in my mind. Saw the news. So sorry for your loss. Please let WekTech step in.

Yes, I want Andy to be a safe older brother, but repossession means handing total control to lawyers who can’t possibly give an actual fuck about me. It means me waiting, helpless, for some version of justice, and, based on how Christi’s divorce battle is playing out, justice cannot be counted on. But the biggest reason I’ll never agree to let WekTech step in? Annaleigh. Any protection WekTech can give me will not include her, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting myself be separated from my baby on anything other than my own terms.

“Julia!” says Vanessa, matching my energy. “Annaleigh just went down for a nap. We got her a Pack ’n Play! She kept escaping from her nest. She’s doing great, by the way. She’s suuuuch a cutie.”

“I’m so glad it’s going well.” For once, as much as my heart is tugging at me, I can’t stop to dwell on my baby. “Listen, I need a favor. A huge favor, actually. You know that friend you have at Facebook? The one who got you all those pictures of Josh?”

“Yes—”

“There’s a picture of Josh with a redhead in your album. I need to get in touch with her. Anything he can get—her name, a current address, a phone number—” With my pen, I tap-tap on the notepad I brought up from the kitchen. Where it says GROCERY LIST at the top, I’ve crossed out GROCERY and written SUSPECTS in angry all-cap letters. Adams was supposed to take these notes. The sheriff was supposed to dig into these leads. Not me.

“Um...sure? I could call him Monday—”

“Now,” I interrupt. “Listen, the situation with Josh has escalated. Whatever it takes. I’ll pay him, I don’t care.”

“God, Julia, no, I’m sure he doesn’t want your money! I’m so sorry to hear that. I’ll call him right now.”

“Let me know as soon as you hear back.”

“Will do.”

We disconnect. I’m sitting in Annaleigh’s room, in the rocking chair by the window, one level removed from the reporters. Bob, as usual, is looking at me through binoculars from the window across the way. He has no idea he’s one of the names on my list.

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