Chapter 6
“Everybody away from the windows.”
Anthony’s voice changed instantly.
Aunt Renee grabbed Mom.
I stepped backward as Calvin Price crossed the street.
He wasn’t rushing.
That frightened me more.
He walked toward the apartment building like someone arriving for a scheduled meeting.
Anthony called 911.
“There’s a man outside who may be connected to threats against this family.”
The dispatcher asked questions.
Anthony answered.
I watched through a narrow gap in the curtain.
Calvin stopped near the entrance.
He looked up.
Straight toward our window.
My stomach turned.
Then he smiled.
“Police are coming,” Anthony said.
A knock hit the apartment door.
Three times.
Hard.
Mom grabbed my arm.
Nobody answered.
Another knock.
Then Calvin called through the door.
“Claire Ellis?”
Mom went rigid.
“I just need to talk.”
Anthony moved closer to the door but didn’t open it.
“Leave.”
Calvin laughed.
“Anthony Carter?”
Anthony froze.
Calvin knew his name.
That meant Dad had told him more than we realized.
“I said leave.”
“I’m not here to hurt anybody.”
Mom whispered,
“Then why is he here?”
Calvin apparently heard her.
“Because Marcus owes me money.”
Anthony said,
“That’s between you and Marcus.”
“Not anymore.”
My heart pounded.
“What do you want?” I called.
Mom turned sharply.
“Jordan!”
Calvin went silent.
Then he said,
“That must be the boy.”
Anthony stepped in front of me.
“Don’t speak to him.”
Calvin laughed again.
“Relax. I’m not interested in children.”
I hated the way he said it.
Then sirens sounded outside.
Calvin’s footsteps moved away from the door.
By the time officers reached the hallway, he was already walking toward his car.
They stopped him.
We watched from the window as he raised his hands.
But after several minutes, nobody arrested him.
One officer came upstairs.
“Mr. Price says he came to discuss a private debt.”
“He threatened us,” Mom said.
“Did he make a direct threat?”
She hesitated.
“No.”
The officer looked at Anthony.
“He says he never entered the apartment.”
“He knew our names,” I said.
The officer nodded.
“That alone isn’t illegal.”
I wanted to scream.
Mom showed him Dad’s message about the people he owed.
That mattered.
The officer documented everything and instructed Calvin not to return.
Calvin drove away.
But before leaving, he looked up at the apartment one final time.
I knew we weren’t done with him.
Neither did the police officer.
“I strongly recommend staying somewhere Marcus doesn’t know about.”
That evening, Denise arranged a hotel for us under Aunt Renee’s name.
Anthony went elsewhere.
Mom didn’t want everyone in one place.
I understood.
Before leaving, Anthony handed me his number.
“If you need anything.”
I took it.
That was all.
We still hadn’t done the paternity test.
Part of me didn’t want to.
Dad was still Dad.
Whatever DNA said wouldn’t erase seventeen years.
At the hotel, Mom and I shared one room.
Aunt Renee took another down the hall.
Mom sat on the edge of the bed while I watched television without actually seeing anything.
Finally, she said,
“Jordan.”
“Yeah?”
“I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“Everything.”
“That’s a lot.”
She almost smiled.
Then her face became serious.
“I should have left the first time.”
I muted the television.
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled.
I continued before she could look away.
“But I also know leaving isn’t as simple as people pretend.”
She stared at me.
“I’ve been angry at you.”
“You have every right.”
“I’m still angry.”
“I know.”
“But I’m more angry at him.”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly.
“I kept thinking if I could keep peace in the house, you’d have a normal childhood.”
I looked at her.
“I had a good childhood.”
She blinked.
“Mom, Dad’s choices don’t erase every birthday, every dinner, every time you helped me with homework.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“You gave me a family.”
“I should have given you safety.”
“You’re doing that now.”
She cried harder.
I sat beside her.
For years, I had thought protection meant being stronger than whoever was causing danger.
Standing between Mom and Dad.
Shoving Dad out the door.
But watching Mom make phone calls, hand evidence to police, talk to lawyers and face truths she had avoided for years made me understand something.
Protection could look quiet too.
Sometimes it looked like signing paperwork while your hands shook.
Sometimes it looked like telling the truth even when you were ashamed.
The next morning, Denise called.
Police had found Dad.
He had checked into a motel outside the city.
He wasn’t arrested immediately for the abuse allegations, but investigators questioned him about the fraudulent loans and forged signatures.
Mom obtained a temporary protective order.
Dad was legally ordered to stay away from us.
I expected relief.
Instead, I felt empty.
“He’s really not coming home,” I said.
Mom looked at me.
“No.”
Part of me hated him.
Another part remembered us fishing at Lake Monroe when I was nine.
He had spent an hour untangling my line without complaining.
That version of him felt impossible to connect with the man threatening Mom.
I realized both versions could be real.
That was worse.
Three days later, detectives contacted us.
The sale of the house was officially blocked.
Several of the fraudulent loans had been identified.
Investigators were now looking at Dad’s financial records.
Then they found something nobody expected.
The $120,000 from the refinance hadn’t all gone to gambling.
Nearly $70,000 had been transferred into an account controlled by Calvin Price.
The remaining money had disappeared through cash withdrawals.
Calvin was questioned.
He claimed the money repaid legitimate debts.
The investigators weren’t convinced.
Then they discovered the old trucking-company theft.
Dad’s former employer had records.
The amount he stole years earlier wasn’t forty thousand like Mom had believed.
It was almost ninety thousand.
Only part had been repaid.
The company had quietly negotiated restitution because they wanted to avoid publicity.
Dad had lied about that too.
“He built our whole life on lies,” Mom whispered.
But Denise corrected her.
“No, Claire. You built your life. Marcus lied inside it.”
Mom looked at her for a long time.
I think those words mattered.
That afternoon, Anthony asked if I would meet him.
Public place.
No pressure.
Mom let me decide.
I said yes.
We met at a diner.
He was already sitting in a booth.
For ten awkward seconds, neither of us knew what to say.
Then he pushed a milkshake toward the empty seat.
“Chocolate.”
I frowned.
“How’d you know?”
He smiled nervously.
“Your aunt told me.”
I sat.
We talked for almost two hours.
Not about Dad.
Not at first.
Anthony asked about school.
Football.
College.
Music.
He didn’t pretend he knew me.
That helped.
Eventually, I asked,
“Do you want the test?”
He stared at his coffee.
“I want whatever you want.”
“That sounds like something adults say when they’re scared to answer.”
He laughed softly.
“You’re right.”
Then he looked at me.
“Yes. I want to know.”
“So do I.”
We scheduled it.
Three days later, samples were collected.
Results would take several days.
I thought waiting would be unbearable.
Then something worse happened.
Dad was released after questioning while investigators built their case.
He was prohibited from contacting Mom.
But the order didn’t stop him from contacting me.
At 11:17 that night, my phone rang.
Dad.
I stared at it.
I shouldn’t have answered.
I did.
“Jordan.”
He sounded tired.
Not angry.
Not drunk.
Just tired.
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“Are you safe?”
I almost laughed.
“You don’t get to ask that.”
“I’m still your father.”
“Are you?”
Silence.
He understood what I meant.
Finally, he said,
“The test won’t change anything.”
“You don’t get to decide that either.”
His breathing became shaky.
“I raised you.”
“Yes.”
“I loved you.”
“Then why did you use my name to borrow money?”
No answer.
“Why did you take my college fund?”
“I thought I could put it back.”
“Why did you hurt Mom?”
He went silent for so long I thought the call had disconnected.
Then he whispered,
“I don’t have an excuse.”
For once, that sounded true.
I closed my eyes.
“Turn yourself in.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Calvin isn’t going to let this end.”
My eyes opened.
“What does that mean?”
Dad’s voice dropped.
“He thinks Claire has something that belongs to him.”
“What?”
“Records.”
“What records?”
“Proof.”
My heart accelerated.
“Proof of what?”
Dad breathed heavily.
“Everything.”
“Where is it?”
“I hid it years ago.”
“Where?”
Another silence.
Then Dad said,
“In your room.”
I stood.
“What?”
“Behind the vent beside your closet.”
My skin went cold.
“What is it?”
“A flash drive.”
“Why hide it there?”
“Because nobody ever searched your room.”
I thought about the break-in.
Dad had searched my room.
He hadn’t stolen my cash randomly.
He had been looking for something.
“Do you have it?”
“No.”
“Then where is it?”
“I couldn’t find it.”
My pulse pounded.
“Jordan, listen to me. If you find that drive, do not tell Calvin.”
“What’s on it?”
Dad’s next words came slowly.
May you like
“Enough to put both of us in prison.”
Then the call ended.
