A Good Marriage(51)

“Okay.” Carbone leaned back in his chair. He seemed skeptical, of course he did. Why wasn’t she just being direct? “Any idea who?”

“Yes, um, it’s my dad. I know that it is.”

“Has your father made any threats?” At least he hadn’t batted an eye at the idea of a father stalking his daughter.

“No—I mean, yes, in the past. On the phone he hasn’t said anything. He just breathes.”

“Breathes?” The officer frowned.

“Yeah, it’s like this panting. I, um, know it really well. It’s definitely him.”

“Okay,” the officer said, like he was trying to decide exactly how hard to press her for more details. “And the calls are from his number?”

“It just says ‘unknown,’” Amanda said. “But I’m sure it’s him. We moved back to New York recently from the West Coast. He lives upstate,” she said, hearing how thin her evidence sounded. “And he’s done this before,” she added. “I filed a complaint back in California, Sacramento. Back then, he only called a few times. This time it’s been … dozens, and dozens.”

“Okay,” the officer said, seeming encouraged. “A complaint. That’s good.”

“He also has a history of … He has a drug problem.” Even those simple words—ones that didn’t even get to the half of it—were so hard to get out. “I think he probably wants money. Actually, I’m sure that’s what he wants.”

Carbone turned toward his computer and began to type. “Sacramento, you said? And this was how many years ago?”

Amanda considered. She couldn’t remember exactly anymore. But it had been spring because the flowers were newly blooming and she’d had Case with her at the time, which meant he wasn’t yet in nursery school. She never would have brought him to a police station if she’d had a choice. Wait, it was right after Case had gotten that terrible food poisoning. Four whole days in the hospital because of tainted lettuce, of all things. Or so the doctors suspected. There was no way to be sure. Whatever had caused it, though, it had been absolutely terrifying to see how quickly Case had deteriorated, and how lifeless he’d become. He’d been nearly three at the time.

“Six or seven years ago.”

A minute more of typing and then Officer Carbone’s fingers suddenly stopped. “Ah, here it is.”

Thank goodness. It was almost like having that stern, big-breasted female officer who’d taken the report standing at Amanda’s side barking at him: She’s telling the truth, asshole, and she shouldn’t have to prove it to you.

“Seven years ago,” he said. “Nothing since then?”

“No.”

“How did it end last time?”

“I shouted that I’d been to the police,” Amanda said.

“Did he respond to that?”

“No, but after that he didn’t call again, until now.”

Amanda had forgotten that part. That she’d threatened him. And it had worked. That was something.

“Has he ever done anything other than call?”

“I think he’s been following me. And today he left flowers right at my house.”

Lilacs. Amanda and her mother used to collect them from an abandoned field where they’d grown wild. Amanda had always been so comforted by that dreamy lilac smell filling the trailer afterward, while her daddy ranted about the sweetness making him feel sick.

“Flowers?” He looked confused. “Any chance he’s trying to apologize?”

Amanda glared at the officer. She couldn’t help it. Hadn’t they just covered this? But from the plain look on his face, it did seem to be an actual question.

“You can’t apologize for some things,” Amanda said, an unexpected heat in her chest. Her jaw was clenched, too. She forced herself to smile. Getting angry wouldn’t help. “Anyway, he would never apologize. And he hates lilacs. They were meant to be threatening. He wants me to know that he knows where I live. Even if he wants money, I’m afraid he’ll do something horrible to get it. I threw the flowers out, but this is the card.”

Officer Carbone studied the card for a long moment, but made no move to take it. “How does he know?”

“Know what?”

“You said you just moved to New York, right?”

“Yes,” Amanda said, relieved that Officer Carbone had at least been listening that much. “Four months ago.”

“And the calls started up right after you got here?”

“Yes.”

“And you haven’t been in contact with your dad since this complaint seven years ago?” He nodded toward his computer. Was his tone slightly accusatory now?

“Yes,” Amanda said. “I mean no. I haven’t had contact with him since then.”

“Then how did he find you?”

“I don’t know. Not easily.” Amanda could not imagine her dad googling or something like that. Even if he did there would be nothing to find. “My husband is—he’s very careful about privacy. He always makes sure our addresses can’t be found online and that kind of thing. He has a service that does these checks and removes anything personal from the internet.”

The officer raised an eyebrow. “Seems like maybe you should focus then on how your dad found you. Don’t you think?”