The Price of Justice by Freya Atwood

Author:Freya Atwood [Atwood, Freya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense, American Suspense, legal thriller, Police Procedural, Murder Investigation, Defense Attorney, Prequel, novella
Publisher: Freya Atwood
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

I LISTEN, trying to pick up any noises in the background that might tell me where he is or if he’s in trouble. He doesn’t say anything, but if he’s picked up the phone, I know he can hear me.

“Dad, I know you’re there. Please, you have to come home. I know you didn’t mean that text you sent. You couldn’t ever think we are anyone’s problem. Please, Daddy, we need you to come home.”

The line crackles with static but he still doesn’t speak. My plan is falling to pieces with every second that ticks by without a word from him. I don’t know how else to convince him to talk to me. Then, after a prolonged pause which makes me question whether the call is still connected, “Don’t call this number again.”

The line goes dead and the phone falls from my hand, landing with a clatter on the floor. I don’t bother checking to see if it’s damaged. For a split second, my brain argues with itself, insisting that the voice on the other end of the line wasn’t my father. But it is his voice. He sounds tired, but I would know the timbre of his voice anywhere.

I barely register the sounds from down below me. Of the car door opening and closing and the knocking on the front door. My father’s words echo in my head, going around and round on a loop, distracting me from the world around me.

“Megan,” Cathy’s voice is hoarse as she stands in the doorway.

I can’t look at her. “What now?” I sink to my knees on the floor, letting the exhaustion and the grief take hold again, making me feel numb. Maybe that’s better than feeling hurt. Because at least then, there’s no pain.

“Uncle Jim’s lawyer friend is downstairs. She says she wants to talk to us.”

“What’s there to talk about? Isn’t it her job to just read the contract and decide if it’s valid or whatever?”

“I don’t know, but she said she needs to talk to both of us.” She closes the gap between us and offers her hand.

The thought of touching my sister after what I’d heard makes me ill and I wave her away. I can’t share this news with her or anyone. Not yet. I still need to make sense of it first. Swallowing back the bile, I push myself to my feet, and let her lead me back to the dining room.

The contract is stacked neatly in a pile and a woman with jet black hair and sharp hazel eyes sits at the table where Cathy had sat before. She looks younger than Uncle Jim, but maybe a little older than Mom. I’m not very good with guessing ages.

“Girls, this is Sheila Gray, the attorney I told you about. She’d like to ask you some questions,” Uncle Jim says. The skin under his eyes is dark, showing the signs that he’s not slept well. How did I miss that before?

I take the seat I’d had before, and Cathy sits beside me.

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