I peal my eyes away from the purple letter and look at the clock on the wall.
Ten thirty four becomes ten thirty five.
I stuff the letter back into the envelope and shut the locker.
How I feel now … is like nothing I’ve felt before.
It’s a strange feeling.
I’m at a junction you see.
Perhaps the greatest junction of my life.
What to do … is not entirely clear. I know I should probably drive back to my local police station with my cell phone and the letter. They will dust for prints. They will trace the call.
They will try to help me, if I can somehow beat the queue.
Walking back to my car I know I am not the same since I left it.
I’m considering Jerry’s proposition.
A year from now he says, I can get them back.
A year from now he will be good to his word.
If I trust him. If I trust this pedophile.
“No,” I say out loud. “No **** way.”
But why a year? Why was that written there? Why has he gone to all this trouble?
He’s already won.
I wonder. I wonder what it would take to put me in a room with that sick ****.
I wonder how I could get to him, tonight.
My car door slams shut. The seatbelt buckles me in.
The keys turn themselves.
I’m going for a ride.