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CHAPTER THREE

My deposition was grueling. Nobody ever wanted to talk to family law attorneys, and my client’s husband wasn’t any different, but somebody had to help people get divorced, and I was determined to help these two do it with dignity. That’s how I’d built my practice—Divorces with Dignity—over the last ten years, trying to keep an already painful process from getting ugly. Some days were harder than others. This was one of them.

I was halfway through my questions when my phone buzzed with a call. Normally, I tucked it away so I wasn’t distracted or bothered by it, but I’d had my phone on me since leaving the call center, hoping the girl would reach out. I’d been obsessively checking it to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, switching the volume on and off. I even had my assistant call me to see if it was working, as if it’d suddenly broken or something. It was irrational, but I was irrationally worried about her.

Had someone hurt her? Had she hurt herself? Could she be dead? My thoughts chased themselves in circles.

The opposing counsel was going on and on about the assets she believed her client’s wife was hiding, but I couldn’t pay attention to anything she was saying. All I wanted to do was answer my phone, but there was no way to do it, especially not with this attorney. She was as nasty and as high-maintenance as her client. The phone finally stopped vibrating against my thigh. I waited for the follow-up buzz, alerting me that I had a new voicemail, but there was none.

The next forty-five minutes were brutal. Each one dragged. As soon as we were done, I quickly thanked everyone and dashed out of the conference room. I whipped out my phone to see the call I’d missed. It was an unknown number. I broke out in a cold sweat.

Could it be her?

Calm down, I told myself, trying to steady my nerves. It was probably just a stupid sales call. But what if it was her, and she needed me? I hurried to my office and quickly shut the door behind me. I logged onto my computer and stared at the blank screen like I’d been doing all day, trying to figure out a way to find her. But it was impossible—the only detail I knew about her was that she went to Buckley. It was a small school, but even so, there were still over a hundred and fifty female students. I anxiously tapped my fingers on the desk, and then suddenly, a text alert. An unknown number again, but a different one than the missed call. My heart skittered against my chest.

It’s me

I jumped up from my desk and let out a whoop, dancing around my office. She was alive! The tension in my neck released. I quickly texted before I lost her again.

The girl from last night? The one who called in?

I asked just to be one hundred percent certain.

Yep

Such a nonchalant, normal response. Good. Maybe she was feeling better.

I’m so glad you reached out. I’ve been so worried about you. Are you okay?

Idk

Are you safe?

Yes

Are you sure? It sounded like someone was chasing you at the park.

She inserted a laughing emoji. It was just some dog but it sounded like a person so I totally freaked out. Just my luck to get kidnapped by some weirdo when I’m trying to— This time she inserted the squirt gun emoji— myself. Another laughing emoji.

Oh, thank god. As long as she was safe and alive, there was still hope. I furtively glanced at my office door like someone might come in and know I was doing something wrong. I had to remind myself that all I was actually doing was texting. I stared at the phone. Now that I had her, what did I say? There weren’t any protocols for this.

Are you at school?

I faked sick and stayed home

She inserted a sick emoji at the end. My head spun. Was it good she stayed home? Or would it call more attention to the situation? I had no idea.

How are you doing? Are you feeling any better?

I tiptoed around the things I wanted to ask; I didn’t want to spook her. Empathetic and supportive. That’s what I’d be. Just like I was at the call center.

She sent back a bunch of emojis with all kinds of different feelings. I had no idea what they meant or how to interpret them. Ever since Hunter informed me the sobbing your eyes out emoji was now used as a response for something funny, I’d given up trying to use them right. What was she trying to tell me? Why couldn’t she use words?

That sounds like a lot, I responded, with a confused emoji of my own.

Lol, she wrote, followed by a roller coaster.

I’m so glad you reached out. I want to help. How can I help you?

I stared at the phone, reading and rereading what I’d sent. I sounded like a customer service agent. I wished she’d just call. She wasn’t going to open up to me like this. But suddenly, the text bubbles danced on my screen. Dance and stop. Dance and stop. And then they just stopped. Whatever she’d written, she didn’t hit send. She must’ve changed her mind. What was she going to say? I couldn’t help her if she wouldn’t talk. This was so different from the call center.

Are you still there? I couldn’t wait any longer. I only had ten minutes before I had to be in court, and I had to do something.

I have a new plan.

What did that mean? A plan to end things, or to get help? This was why I hated texting. It was too ambiguous. It was hard enough to help them on the phone. This was almost impossible.

Did you call me earlier? Can you call me again?

I can’t anymore

This time I was the one to do the three-dot dance for her as I typed and erased my response before finally settling on Can you tell me more about the plan? I just want to make sure you’re safe.

I’m going to shoot them first

Nausea flooded my throat.

Who? I asked, like I didn’t already know.

The boys who hurt me.

Do you think there’s another way? Think about what happens if you do that.

I don’t care. It doesn’t matter, since I’m leaving anyway. I decided last night. They should have to pay for what they did to me. Why should I have to be the only one suffering? They’re just going about their lives like it’s no big deal. No way. And you know what else? I don’t want people to remember me like that. Not on that video. I’ll make a new video when I do it. I’ll be the girl that got payback.

My blood froze. Countless images from school shootings flashed through me. Was that what she was planning? My head spun with possible scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.

I understand you’re in a lot of pain, and I know it feels like it will last forever, but it won’t. Can we try to find a different plan together?

You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what they did to me

What did they do? Was I supposed to ask that? I didn’t know, but I felt like I was gathering her statement, so it seemed important. The seconds dragged while I waited for her to respond.

Still nothing.

Was it too triggering? Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. Then, finally:

Promise you won’t tell anyone?

I promise. I knew I had to say it, so she’d trust me. In reality, I had no idea what I’d do next or who I was going to tell, but I was going to have to tell someone. Could the police trace unknown numbers?

They drugged me and took turns

She didn’t have to clarify. I rubbed my hands on my face. A throbbing pain grew behind my eyes. It’d be a full-fledged migraine by tonight. I checked the time again: two minutes until trial.

How did I respond to that? I was a lawyer. Not a therapist or mental health professional of any kind. In the thirty hours of training to work at the call center, nothing had prepared me for anything like this. All I could think about was Phillip’s anger about my having given her my number in the first place. This was why. Right here. I was so far out of my depth, and I had no time.

I’m sorry, I’m at work and have to be in a meeting very soon. Can we talk again later? Can you promise me that you won’t do anything until we talk again? You won’t hurt yourself or anyone else. Please?? I put a series of praying hands at the end.

A few excruciating beats passed.

I can’t do it today anyway

Sweet relief flooded my veins. At least I had until the end of the day to figure something out. To come up with a plan.

Okay. Please, just wait until we talk. We’ll figure this out together.

There’s nothing you can do

Please let me try

Let’s chat later xo

Xo ? She ended the conversation with hugs and kisses? I didn’t know what to say or do, so I just responded with a heart. I tucked my phone in my pocket and grabbed my briefcase.

What had I gotten myself into? And what was I going to do now?