Take Flight

by T. E. Price

  “Do you think the evidence will be admissible?”

  Isabel hesitates, then replies, “I’m not sure, but even if it isn’t, he doesn’t have to know that. He doesn’t even have to know what the evidence is that you claim to have, he just needs to feel threatened by it.”

  My eyes wander aimlessly around the room. Hmmm. This could work. “Yeah, I think if I got him angry enough over the phone, he would confess to a lot. He really likes to taunt me with threats from our past.”

  Isabel nods, “I think you should do it, Hallie. It may not be the best plan, but at least it’s something. You’ll have to wait a little while until we know he’s left Ann Arbor, but when you call him, be sure to set up the recording so you can get it all. I think you should take him to court anyway for all those terrible things he did to you. If he were in prison, where he belongs, Jonathan McClain wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone.”

  “Mama?” comes a little voice from behind the recliner. Isabel squeezes her eyes shut and pinches her lips. How long has Bailey been listening? Does she know what prison is? Bailey tiptoes around the chair and stands—her toes pointing inward—before the two of us. Her eyes darting back and forth from one worried face to the other. “Are you guys talking about Uncle Jon again?”

  “Again?” Isabel questions as she leans forward, sliding a hand down her cheek. “What do you mean again, sweetie?”

  Bailey shuffles sideways to the arm of the recliner, then looks down to her feet as they slide back and forth across the carpet. “Well … um,” she steals a quick glance up at me, then says, “Because we talked about how Uncle Jon had hurt me that one time. Remember, Mama—how when I told you he was a bad man?”

  My heart falls to the pit of my stomach, the crash from these words pummeling straight through me. I look to Isabel, my eyes pleading. Oh, dear God—not my niece too. Isabel casts her eyes downward as she rubs at her neck and leans over, asking Bailey to go back to her bedroom so she and Aunt Hallie can talk. Deafening silence fills the room as my soul begs for an acquittal. My eyes flutter closed. A tear splashes on my shaking hand. “Please tell me it’s not true,” I beg. Isabel’s silence isn’t the response I need, and I fall to my knees sobbing. I married a man who not only put me at risk, but also those most precious to me. My heart bangs so hard against my body that I think it might stop. I wish it would. As I cry without restraint, my mind floods with the many memories of fear and agony that I endured as an adult … as a grown woman who has the capability to process my unwarranted pain. But that little girl wouldn’t understand his violence. She wouldn’t understand why someone would lash out at her for reasons unknown, and yet, she’s experienced it. To what extent, who knows. But she’s faced the kind of ugliness that no person should ever have to bear. At the thought, I weep with renewed anguish as I lean against the couch. The acts felt from the unrelenting hands of that monster terrorize me on my best day, but now I’m stuck here, reliving it through the eyes of a child. Isabel sniffles in the background. My heart throbs, like I’ve been punched in the chest. How could I have placed Bailey in his dangerous presence? If only I had spoken up sooner about what I was enduring. How selfish can I be? My mind searches for answers that might not be true if I could just turn back time. “What happened?” I whisper.

  Isabel sniffles again, then clears her throat. “We don’t know, exactly. She only brought it up recently—and she really caught us off guard with it all. We told her she wasn’t in trouble, but she needed to tell us everything that happened. We think he hit her across the face, but she hasn’t hinted toward anything worse. We don’t know how often—honestly, I’m surprised it even happened once—it’s not like we left the twins alone with him. So, it’s a bit of a mystery. But,” she takes in a shaky breath, “red flags were raising when she kept telling us how he was a bad man and that she was scared of him.”

  My heart rips down the center, sending me tumbling into another bout of sobs. “I’m so sorry,” is the only muffled response I can offer, so I say it over and over again. But it doesn’t matter, nothing can lift this weight off my heart, not even these repeated apologies.

  After a moment, light fingertips touch the small of my back, and Isabel kneels beside me to say, “It’s not your fault, Hallie. We never blamed you and we never will. That man is sick—he’s sick in his mind and in his soul.” Isabel starts patting my back, then adds, “Call him, Hallie. Get the evidence you need to blackmail him. The sooner he leaves you alone, the better we’ll all be.”

  CHAPTER 23

  My shoes hit the welcome mat in Tom and Sarah’s house and I let out a long sigh. This is where I need to be for this phone call. Now’s my time to collect my evidence, and Sarah is willing to walk me through it. “Thanks for letting me do this here,” I say to Sarah. “I don’t want to put Harrison and Isabel through this, but I also don’t want to be alone.”

  “No problem,” Sarah says as she closes the door behind me. “Tom’s at work today, so it’s just you and me.”

  I lift my chest and inhale deeply through my nose. “Perfect. I saw from social media that he is back in Oklahoma. So, today’s the day I get him to confess to everything. I installed an audio recorder on my laptop, and I’m going to record our conversation as we talk on speaker phone.”

  “Good.” Sarah offers a closed-lip smile with one small punch in the air to cheer me on. She walks past the couch toward the kitchen and I follow on her heels. “Let’s set up on the kitchen table, I think that’s probably the best place.” I head toward the large, square table and begin setting up the recorder when my hands start to shake. Sarah freezes, then reaches over to place a steady hand over mine, “It’s gunna be fine, Hallie. Just like you said, get the evidence you need and end the call.” She gives me a quick squeeze, then moves her arm across the table as she sinks into one of the kitchen chairs. “He knows your calling him, right?”

  I gulp, then give one, long blink. “Yes. I texted him to tell him we needed to talk. He’s at work, but he said he’d take my call—Lord knows he’s done a lot worse at work than taking a personal call.” Sighing, I add, “And I’m sure he was just waiting for me to contact him after the whole cigar-on-my-windshield episode last week.”

  “Well, at least he doesn’t know what’s up your sleeve.”

  I cast a long side-glance at nothing, then lower into the chair across from Sarah and add, “Yeah, Jonathan would never expect this. He thinks I’m too dumb to do something like record him, and I know he will spill the gory details if I can get him riled up enough.” I run an unsteady hand through my hair and shift to remove my phone from the back pocket of my jeans. With the laptop open, the recorder up, and my phone out, all that’s left is to dial the number. I chew on the inside of my cheek. Am I really prepared to race down memory lane with the man that created a life I’m so desperate to forget?

  As I stare down at the phone, my hand poised as if ready to draw a sword, Sarah reaches over the table and presses her fingertips against the surface before me. “Hallie,” she starts, and my eyes raise to meet her unwavering gaze, “I’ve been praying about this call. Be strong. God’s here with us, and he’ll get you through this. Just stay calm, follow through with the plan, and remember that if it gets to be too much, you can always hang-up and try again later … either way, I’ll be here to help.”

  “Thank you,” I manage through the lump forming in my throat. I can do this—I’m strong … I’m a fighter. I nod my head and raise the phone to my mouth. Please, God—let me get what I need to end this battle.

  The recorder begins counting the seconds as the ringing echoes loudly over the speaker phone. The sound waves jump on the audio record icon— it’s picking up the ringing tone. Everything’s working, I just need him to answer with the right greeting. I hold my breath as the line connects, and my stomach does a somersault. “Jonathan McClain.”

  My heart soars. I took a risk calling his work phone, but I got what I needed—he’s identified himself. Sarah gives me a silent nod from
the other side of the kitchen table, and I take a deep breath, “It’s Hallie.”

  Papers ruffle and the wheels of a rolling office chair screech. “What are you doing calling me on my work phone?” comes his hushed tone.

  I ignore the question. “You’ve been to Ann Arbor. You’re looking for me.”

  Jonathan laughs quietly. Click. His office door closes shut, “That’s what this call is about? Didn’t the cigar left on your windshield provide enough evidence? Yeah, Hallie—I’ve been to Ann Arbor. I knew that was your brother’s voice I heard in the background of our last phone call, so I thought I would come scope out your new home,” he jeers.

  “You’re not welcome here, Jonathan. Don’t come back.” My voice trembles just a little, so I straighten my back and sit up taller. I have a job to do, and I can’t let my emotions get the better of me. “Seriously, Jonathan. This marriage is over, and there’s nothing you can do to make me change my mind. You can’t scare me into coming back to Oklahoma, I’m only coming back for the court date in October.”

  “Give it up, Hallie,” comes his vindictive retort. “Whatever you’re doing in Ann Arbor is a waste. You’re too stupid to get a real job, and when you finally stop living off your brother, you’ll run back to me.”

  His words slice through me. How dare he—I don’t live off my brother. I’m only here because Harrison is the last person I trust with my safety. And stupid, huh? How’s this for stupid … time to dig-up some dirt. “I’ll never come back to you, you know why? Because you beat me … all the time, and all my bruises proved that. And you controlled me, burning me with your cigar…giving me that scar on my stomach, as if that could ruin my chances of ever having children.” I pound my free fist against my thigh. “Then, that one night, when I was just trying to help you…you really tried to kill me. You forced yourself on me, nearly ripping off my nightgown, and tried to strangle me. You locked your grip around my neck and you wouldn’t have let go if I hadn’t hit you with the lamp in self-defense.” The rush of my words keep pace with my racing heart, I have to get him to admit to all this. “You know all of this is true.”

  Another mirthless laugh, “So what if it’s true?” His tone takes a nasty dive with his next words, “You’re my wife, I’ll hit you anytime I want. I’ll burn you with a thousand cigars if I have to. I’ll take you when I feel like it, even if you try to refuse me. And I could kill you in a heartbeat … if I feel like it. I own you, Hallie. When will you figure out that you can never escape me? You deserved everything I did to you, and I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

  My mind reels. I’m done—he’s confessed to it all. But now I need to know more. “What do you mean?”

  His tone returns to his even, deep voice. “Ainsley told me just the other week that she thinks you deserved what you got. And if your best friend’s saying that, then what more do you need? You’re mine, and I’ll treat you the way you deserve.”

  My heart drops to my stomach. How could she say such a thing? I wouldn’t wish Jonathan’s violence on my worst enemy, let alone someone I used to call my best friend. “No one deserves to be abused,” I throw back, my gumption lifting with the heat that rises from my gut, “Especially not Bailey.” Angry tears threaten, but I can’t stop yet, “Yeah, Jonathan, my niece told us what you did to her. How could you hit a child?”

  “Easy,” he retorts in a dangerous voice, “she got out of bed that last time we stayed at your parents’, when Harrison and Isabel came to visit in the summer. She started crying for her mom. She wouldn’t stop, so I slapped her across the face and told her to go back to sleep. That’s called showing a kid who’s boss. Someone needs to teach her to be seen and not heard.”

  “How dare you,” I shriek. We’re past the point of no return, now I’m seeing red. “You had no right to put a hand on her like that, or any other child for that matter.”

  “Your brother would never do it, and someone needs to show that kid how a real man deals with that kinda mess,” and he throws in a few cuss words to make his point.

  “You’re not a real man. You’re a monster.”

  “Rita would disagree,” he snickers as he fires back with the kind of ammunition he thinks will hurt, but I don’t care who Jonathan cozies up with.

  “I don’t care what Rita thinks. What you do, or who you do, in your spare time—that is your business.” I grit my teeth. How dare he compare me to Rita…we have nothing in common.

  “Don’t start accusing me of an affair, Hallie. Rita told me all about your flirting with Andrew and how you were going to meet up with him for coffee or something. So, don’t you start pointing fingers at me.” My jaw drops, and my wide eyes meet Sarah’s behind the laptop that’s still recording. She tips her head forward with a look that says, clear your name, then she moves her eyes purposefully to the laptop. Oh gosh—this false accusation needs to be denied.

  “There was never anything going on between me and Andrew.” I sputter as my thighs flex, wanting to jump from the chair. “Pastor Noah can attest to that. Andrew texted me once, and I never replied. You can check my phone records. I’ve never cheated on you, Jonathan.”

  He breathes heavily into the phone, “Don’t play dumb with me, Hallie. You said it yourself, you knew I was in Ann Arbor, watching you. It doesn’t matter if you changed the color of your hair, I can recognize you a mile away. And I saw you walking down the street with that guy. You both looked cute, with your matching, black t-shirts.” My lips part as my gaze finds Sarah again. Our eyes lock. He saw Tom. “You want to tell me you’re not sleeping with him, too?”

  Heat pulses against my temples as my eyes drop to the recorder. “I’m not. I—” I stutter, my heart catching in my throat. He can’t know about Tom and Sarah. I clench my stomach and jut my chin out. “Just because you’ve been keeping yourself busy with Rita doesn’t mean that I’m sleeping with someone, too. I’ve never had an affair, and that guy you saw me with is just a guy from church. That’s why we had matching t-shirts—we were doing something for the church.” From the corner of my eye, I see Sarah shift uncomfortably. “Not that it’s any of your business who I talk to,” I add.

  “It is my business. Like I said, you’re my wife, and your actions have been dragging my name through the mud for far too long now,” he grunts. “Don’t you know what I’m capable of? I can find you and him. I can make this all disappear with two slugs from my shotgun.”

  My skin crawls. I do know what he’s capable of, and if I have to, the courts will too. Without any acknowledgement of the threat, I move past it and say, “We’re getting a divorce in two months, it’s not your concern who I spend time with here in Ann Arbor. It’s none of your business now, when you sign those papers, or after the divorce is finalized in court.”

  “Give it up, Hallie. You know I’m not signing those papers,” he spits. “You’re gunna be my wife. I don’t care how many affairs you’ve had, you’re gunna learn what it means to be an obedient and submissive wife.”

  “No—I’m not.” I steady my breathing, like a fighter about to deliver the final punch. “You will sign those papers, Jonathan—the moment they’re served to you. And you won’t return to Ann Arbor. If you refuse to listen, I’ll take you to court for all the terrible things you did to me while we were married. I’ll press charges.”

  “You don’t have any money to take me to court. And, even if you tried, no one would believe you … don’t forget, everyone loves me around here. I’m well-known and well-respected, you couldn’t convince anyone otherwise if your life depended on it.”

  My nostrils flare, “I’ll find the money if I have to, and then everyone will know who you really are!”

  “And then what, Hallie?” He chuckles, like I’ve just told him a joke. “You’re gunna ride off into the sunset with that guy when it’s all said and done? You think your life will be perfect the moment we leave the courthouse? I know where you live now, and I’ll find you—no matter what.” His voice drops to a hushed whisper t
hat pricks my skin with every syllable, “If I can’t have you, Hallie, then no one can.” And with that, the line goes dead.

  I stop the recorder, place my phone down, and drop my head into my hands. Sarah’s still sitting across from me, but I can’t keep it together anymore … the dam breaks, and, as if a tidal wave crashes against my heart, I sob. Sarah leans across the table and places a hand on my arm while silently respecting my need to cry. Eventually, I reign in my tears. “You did great, Hallie,” she whispers. “You got what you were looking for, and you held it together the whole time.”

  I lift my head, my eyes burning, and she rises for the tissue box perched on top of the fridge. Gently handing me the box, she rests in the seat beside me. “I just don’t know if my threat is going to work,” I gulp. “I don’t think he’s gunna leave me alone.”

  Sarah drops her chin to her neck, then says, “Give it a couple weeks, and then just send him a text that you’re going to press charges if he returns to Ann Arbor or refuses to sign the divorce papers.”

  “But he knows how vulnerable I am. I haven’t fooled him. He’ll just keep coming after me.”

  “Then send him a copy of the evidence as proof of what you need to take him to court.” Sarah’s fist drops to the table like a gentle gavel, “You told me he was worried about his reputation. He even made that clear over the phone. If he realizes you have something that will completely ruin him, then he’ll be forced to leave you alone.”

  With a slow nod, I take a steadying breath and say, “If there’s one thing he’s more worried about than revenge, it’s his reputation.”

  “Good—well, let’s use it against him. Keep a copy of this recording safe, and if you need to use it to protect yourself, then do it.”