Page 38 of Escape Girl
More of that liquid swallowing noise. Definitely not water. Sheesh, he was going to have such a headache tomorrow. A harsh laugh. “For a second, I was thrilled you sounded jealous. Because that would mean you still care.” Another swallow. “But now I just feel awful cause I hurt you. I never want to hurt you. But I must have, since you left.”
The rage ball dissipated as quickly as it formed, leaving me exhausted.
“Anyway, it wassen real,” Bobby slurred. “The girl, I mean. Was some sorta scam, y’know, one of those romance scams? So don’ worry cause it—”
Wait, what? “A romance scam?”
He sighed. “Yeah. She wasn’t interested in me, she was only after my money. I know, I know. I’m an idiot.”
I hada lotof questions. “Bobby—”
A sharp, dramatic gasp of air. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say my name since you left. Hey, Em, did I ever tell you that I hate my name?”
I wanted more information on this whole scamming business; after all, some of our bank accounts were linked. What if he’d accidentally given away personal or financial information to the scammer?
But his last words broke my train of thought, and my lips parted in surprise. Bobby rarely used the wordhateat all. “No. You’ve never said that to me.”
“It’s horrible,” he groaned. “My parents probably thought I’d eventually grow up into a Robert or Rob or Bob, but it never happened. Now my name matches what I am—a man-child, a pathetic joke.”
OK, that was ridiculous. The booze had turned on him; he was getting maudlin. “Stop. You are not a pathetic joke. I’vealways liked your name.” Sure, it was boyish, but it suited Bobby. He wasn’t childish in any pejorative way. He was high-energy and affectionate, easy to please and quick to laugh.
“Do you ever miss me?” he asked suddenly.
Only when I breathed. Only every inhalation, every exhalation, and the spaces in between.
This conversation needed to be over before I said something like that aloud. “I need to go to back to bed.”
“No!” he bellowed. “Goddamn it. Talk to me!”
“Oh yeah, about what?” I snapped. “The fact that you’re wasted in the early evening on a Tuesday? That you woke me up in the middle of the night even though I’m working around the clock on this case and need every hour of sleep possible? Or maybe you’d like to tell me more about the ‘ridiculously beautiful’ woman you were interested in?”
My voice was shaking on that last sentence. “This conversation is over.”
I hung up and threw my phone across the room.
Chapter Twelve
Now
After that phonecall with Bobby, I had called my father and told him what Bobby said about a romance scammer. Bobby had seemed so vulnerable. What if he’d accidentally exposed something to a person who’d run off with his bank accounts?
Telling my father about it was probably not the right thing to do. It was like hitting an ant with a sledgehammer. He was paranoid on a good day and considered the scammer’s attempt on Bobby as a deeply personal attack on our family. Working nonstop in a conference room with a dozen other lawyers for the next week, I wasn’t involved in what happened next: my father interrogated Bobby, took his computer, and began working with his own investigator and the FBI to find the scammers.
Days later, I called my father to get an update. Boy, did he have one. At the moment I called, he was face-to-face with Jo Harper. She’d just revealed herself to him not only as his fake fiancée from all those years ago, but also as the leader of a team of romance scammers who targeted rich married men. Apparently, one of her “girls” had targeted Bobbyby accident. According to Jo, she would never have hurt my father or his family again, blah blah blah. She’d stopped her scam, was dissolving her team, and asking my father to please drop the case with the FBI.
“Not that I will,” he huffed importantly in my ear. “I mean, she’s a con artist. This could have hurt you! Think of the damage she could have caused to our family.”
It’s not that I totally disagreed. Frankly, I was still foaming at the mouth over the “ridiculously beautiful” girl who had approached Bobby.
But.
I’d long ago memorized that mysterious letter that arrived when my dad and I were estranged.Forgive your father, Emily. Because your mom would want you to.
Because of that letter, I’d forgiven him. Because of that letter, I hadn’t let my pride and hurt feelings keep us estranged. Because of that letter, I still had family. Despite our emotionally stunted relationship, I fiercely loved my father.
Interrupting my father’s rant, I said, “I think you should tell the FBI to drop it.”
It was hard to shock my father, but I’d done it. “What? Em, it was your husband who got entrapped in this, and—”
