Call Me! (26 page)

I grin at her.

“Figure of speech,” she says. Then adds, “What made
you
so bold all of a sudden? Ten minutes ago you were shaking like a leaf.”

“Ten minutes ago I was in shock. That stupid message took me by surprise. Now I realize it’s a hoax.”

“The phone call?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

“Someone’s fucking with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“In real life, kidnappers don’t call to warn you.”

“They don’t?”

“No. They have to rely on the element of surprise. Not only that, but
ManChild
is too smart to leave a voice message. And even if he did, he’d have no reason to disguise his voice.”

“Unless you knew him.”

“Exactly. And even if he knows how to steal a cell signal, he couldn’t blend in with the reporters all this time, with signal-stealing equipment set up, hour after hour.”

“So the person who called has to be someone you know.”

“And it has to be someone who knows my cell phone number. Someone who enjoys seeing me squirm. Someone who threatened me recently, just to see me sweat.”

“Roy?”

“Roy.”

“You’re positive?”

“One hundred percent.”

She nods. “But just for safety’s sake, let’s don’t power up your cell phone, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Should you warn Ben?”

“Ben will be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Roy and
ManChild
have no reason to hurt Ben. Not to mention there are a hundred people surrounding the house. There’s no way anyone could get to him.”

“In the movies, the killer always finds a way to get in the house.”

“Ben will be fine.”

“You really think that was Roy?”

“I do.”

“That’s harassment, Dani. You should call your police boyfriend and report him.”

“You mean Patrick Aub?”

Sophie laughs.

“What?”

“Just thinking a funny thought,” she says.

“What?”

“Dani Aub!”

“Don’t
even
!” I say, laughing.

AN HOUR LATER we’re lying on opposite ends of Sophie’s couch, painting each other’s toe nails.

“This is Ben’s idea of what women would do when they’re alone together,” I say.

“He’s right.”

“This one time, maybe.”

“Speaking of Ben, you’re not going back to him.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then ask, “What did Janie Ramirez say about the book?”

“Change the subject all you want. But just so you know, we’re definitely going to talk about this. Because you absolutely cannot go back to Ben’s house.”

“
Our
house.”

“Whatever. Forget about Roy for a minute. Everyone knows where you live now.
ManChild
knows where you live. If he or some other kook decides to come after you some day, you’d be a sitting duck.”

“What did Janie say about the ghostwriting idea?”

She scowls at me for changing the subject again, but says, “She agreed to read the manuscript tonight, said we could call her tomorrow morning.”

Sophie jumps up.”

“Where you going?”

“I forgot to send Janie the manuscript!”

By the time our nails are dry and we can’t speak a full sentence without yawning, it’s two a.m. Sophie says, “Can we sleep in the same bed tonight, or are you still married?”

“Still married.”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Of you? Terrified.”

“I’m serious, Dani.”

“Me too, Sofe.”

SATURDAY MORNING

“WHAT’S YOUR OPINION of Ben’s manuscript?” I ask Janie Ramirez via speaker phone, after introducing myself.

“It’s well-written, but it’s not the story people want to read.”

“Why not?”

“People want to know three things: how you were kidnapped, what happened to you in that basement, and how you got away. That’s it. Start with the kidnapping, end with the precinct house. As a reader, that’s all I want. Give me that, I’ll be happy.”

“How long would it take to write my version?” I ask.

“We can self-publish your book and get it out before Ben signs a publishing contract. Four weeks, max.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What’s that?”

“I haven’t written a book yet.”

“It’s been written, Dani,” she says, “indelibly, in your brain. It just hasn’t been written
down
.”

“Excuse me,” I say, shaking my head. “Did you just say four
weeks
? We can’t write a book in four weeks. It took Ben almost a year.”

“Ben padded the story. Remember, we’re telling the story people want to hear. They don’t want to hear how you grew up, or what treasures you kept under your bed when you were five. They don’t want to know you were popular in school or if your parents fought at night.”

“They don’t?”

“Not unless those things came up in conversations between you and Hicks, or occupied your thoughts in the basement.”

“I like it,” Sophie says.

“Me too,” I say.

“Good,” Janie says. “When can we meet?”

“I might be bisexual,” I say.

“Excuse me?”

Sophie says, “What made you blurt that out?”

I shrug. “I’m married to Ben, but Sophie and I kissed yesterday.”

There’s dead silence from both Janie and Sophie.

“I just wanted you to be aware of that,” I say.

“In case it makes a difference,” I add.

Finally, Janie says, “Are you planning to make a pass at me?”

I laugh. “No, of course not!”

“Then why would it make a difference?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted it on the table.”

“She’s constantly blurting out inappropriate things,” Sophie says. “It’s part of her charm.”

“It is?” I say.

“It’s one of your most endearing qualities.”

I wonder what that says about me. Then I realize Janie hasn’t responded. “Janie? Are you still there?”

“I can’t wait to meet you both,” she says. “Your place or mine?”

Sophie says, “Ours.”

“I need to warn you about something,” I say. “There’s a guy,
ManChild
, who’s trying to find me. If he does, he’s going to kidnap and kill me. So there could be danger.”

“Sounds exciting!” Janie says.

WE DECIDE JANIE will fly to Nashville this afternoon, and Sophie will pick her up at the airport. She and I will work together by day, and she’ll spend the nights at a nearby motel. Janie says she’ll only need a few days in person, and can follow up with phone calls later in the week.

My new attorney, Paul Small, calls and says he’s not comfortable seeking an injunction to stop Ben’s book from being published. Worse, he says I need to inform Ben of my plan to write my own book, because the publishing houses bidding for Ben’s book will expect full disclosure. If they don’t get it, they could sue us, claiming my book hurt Ben’s sales.

“And it would,” Paul says. “In fact, when they hear about your book they won’t want Ben’s.”

“My full disclosure could cost him a million dollars?” I ask.

“Yes. But remember, Ben never discussed his book with you. And he paid someone to blow your cover.”

“So?”

“You owe him nothing, Dani.”

“I owe him for other things.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s still your husband.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means he’s entitled to half the earnings from your book.”

“Maybe I should rethink my marital status,” I say.

“If you’re planning to divorce, you should work out an agreement before you publish.”

“If we’re divorcing, do I have to tell him I’m writing my own book?”

“Yes.”

“That comes under full disclosure?”

“It does.”

“Do I have to tell him my book will be out in four weeks?”

“No.”

“Good, because Ben will assume I’m all talk.”

“Do you want a divorce?”

“I’m trying to decide. I might be bisexual.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m giving you full disclosure.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“I kissed Sophie yesterday.”

“Sophie Alexander? My client?”

“Yes. And I liked it.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

“I’m not sure how to respond to that,” Paul says.

“Is it okay that I kissed her?”