knew about battles because her secret vice was an online video game, “World of Warcraft.” A number of people in Jacobsville and Comanche Wells played. She knew the gamer tags, the names in-game, of only a very few. Probably she’d partnered with some of them in raid groups. But mostly she ran battlegrounds, in player-versus-player matches, but only on weekends, when she had more free time.
Gaming took the place of dates she never got. Even if she’d been less moral, she rarely got asked on dates. She could be attractive when she tried, but she wasn’t really pretty and she was painfully shy around people she didn’t know. She’d only gone out a couple of times in high school, once with a boy who was getting even with his girlfriend by dating her—although she hadn’t known until later—and another with a boy who’d hurt another girl badly and saw Carlie as an easy mark. He got a big surprise.
From time to time she thought about how nice it would be to marry and have children. She loved spending time in the baby section of department stores when she went to San Antonio with her father occasionally. She liked to look at knitted booties and lacy little dresses. Once a saleswoman had asked if she had children. She said no, she wasn’t married. The saleswoman had laughed and asked what that had to do with it. It was a new world, indeed.
She put away her book on the Little Bighorn fight, and settled in with her new copy of a book on Alexander the Great. The phone rang. She got up, but she was hesitant to answer it. She recalled the threat from the unknown man and wondered if that was him.
She went to the staircase and hesitated. Her father had answered and was on the phone.
“Yes, I know,” he said in a tone he’d never used with her. “If you think you can do better, you’re welcome to try.” He paused and a huge sigh left his chest. “Listen, she’s all I’ve got in the world. I know I don’t deserve her, but I will never let anyone harm her. This place may not look secure, but I assure you, it is...”
He leaned against the wall near the phone table, with the phone in his hand. He looked world-weary. “That’s what I thought, too, at first,” he said quietly. “I still have enemies. But it isn’t me he’s after. It’s Carlie! It has to have something to do with the man she saw in Grier’s office. I know that the man who killed Joey and masqueraded as a DEA agent is dead. But if he put out a contract before he died... Yes, that’s what I’m telling you.” He shook his head. “I know you don’t have the funds. It’s okay. I have plenty of people who owe me favors. I’ll call in a few. Yes. I do appreciate your help. It’s just...it’s worrying me, that’s all. Sure. I’ll call you. Thanks.” He hung up.
Carlie moved back into the shadows. Her father looked like a stranger, like someone she’d never seen before. She wondered who he’d been speaking to, and if the conversation was about her. It sounded that way; he’d used her name. What was a contract? A contract to kill someone? She bit her lower lip. Something to do with the man she saw in the chief’s office, the man she’d tried to describe for the artist, the DEA agent who wasn’t an agent.
She frowned. But he was dead, her father had said. Then he’d mentioned that contract, that the man might have put it out before he died. Of course, if some unknown person had been paid in advance to kill her...
She swallowed down the fear. She could be killed by mistake, by a dead man. How ironic. Her father had said the house was safe. She wondered why he’d said that, what he knew. For the first time in her life, she wondered who her father really was.
* * *
SHE FIXED HIM a nice breakfast. While they were eating it she said, “Why do you think that man came to kill me?”
His coffee cup paused halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“The man with the knife.”
“We agreed that he was after me, didn’t we?” he said, avoiding her face.
She lifted her eyes and stared at him. “I work for the police. It’s impossible not to learn a little something about law enforcement in the process. That man wasn’t after you at all, was he? The man who was poisoned so he couldn’t tell what he knew?”
He let out a breath and put the coffee cup down. “Well, Carlie, you’re more perceptive than I gave you credit for.” He smiled faintly. “Must be my genes. Your mother, God rest her soul, didn’t have that gift. She saw everything in black and white.”
“Yes, she did.” Talk of her mother made her sad. It had just been Carlie and Mary for a long time, until Mary got sick. Then Mary’s mother, and her hophead boyfriend, had shown up and ransacked the place. Carlie had tried to stop them... She shivered.
It had been several days later, after the hospital visit and the arrests, when her father had come back to town, wearing khaki pants and shirt, and carrying a pistol.
There had been no money for doctors, but her father had taken charge and got Mary into treatment. Mary’s mother and her boyfriend went to jail. Sadly, it had been hopeless from the start. Mary died within weeks. During those weeks, Carlie got to know her absent father. He became protective of her. She liked him very much. He was gone for a day after the funeral. When he came home, he seemed very different.
Carlie’s father spoke to someone on the phone then, too, and when he hung up he’d made a decision. He took Carlie with him to Atlanta, where he enrolled in a seminary and became a Methodist minister. He said it was the hardest and the easiest thing he’d ever done, and that it was a good thing that God forgave people for horrible acts. She asked what they were. Her father said some things were best left buried in the past.
“We’re still not sure he didn’t come after me,” her father said, interrupting her reverie.
“I heard you talking on the phone last night,” she said.
He grimaced. “Bad timing on my part,” he said, sighing.
“Very bad. So now I know. Tell me what’s going on.”
“That phone call you had came from a San Antonio number. We traced it, but it led to a throwaway phone,” he replied. “That’s bad news.”
“Why?”
“Because a few people who use those phones are connected to the underworld in some fashion or other, to escape detection by the authorities. They use the phone once to connect with people who might be wiretapped, then they dispose of the phone. Drug lords buy them by the cartload,” he added.
“Well, I didn’t do anybody in over a drug deal, and the guy I gave the artist the description of died in Wyoming. So why is somebody still after me?” she concluded.
He smiled. “Smart. Very smart. The guy died. That’s the bottom line. If he hired somebody to go after you, to keep you from recognizing him in a future lineup, and paid in advance, it’s too late to call him off. Get the picture?”
“In living color,” she said. She felt very adult, having her father give her the truth instead of a sweet lie to calm her.
“I have a couple of friends watching you,” he said. “I don’t think it’s a big threat, but we’d be insane not to take it seriously, especially after what’s already happened.”
“That was weeks ago,” she began.
“Yes, at the beginning of a long chain of growing evidence.” He sipped coffee. “I
