This can't be real. It can't really be happening.
There was no denying that it was happening. Jenny was on her back on a strange bed, looking up at a strange ceiling. There hadn't been time to arrange a safehouse for the first night, so she was stuck in a courthouse holding cell. It was nothing malicious, of course. She just had to be somewhere someone had to get past guards and identification systems and multiple sets of doors. It was very secure, and the officers had done their best to make it more comfortable. One of them brought a quilt for the thin mattress, and they gave her a list of takeout options, which she hadn't yet been able to stomach. She wished Mr. Fingers was with her, but she was glad he was boarding with Lieutenant Pitts in a real house so he wouldn't be underfoot. She hoped he wasn't upset.
The more she thought of it, the more it wouldn't go away. It had been such a normal day. Just work, come home, make dinner, maybe watch some television, then go to bed. It was a normal day, right up until the murder. Every time she closed her eyes, Jenny saw him- the starkly-cut face, the gun still smoking in his hand, and those eyes looking back at her. He was looking for her now. Until he died or she did, he would be looking for her.
Everyone tried to tell Jenny it would be all right. "Don't worry about a thing, ma'am. You're safe here," they said. The pair of officers right outside her room looked in periodically and smilled reassuringly, like half a dozen cops hadn't already been killed by this psycho. If they couldn't even protect themselves, how could they protect her? They'd been looking for this guy for ages, and he always got away.
The only one who didn't try to convince her was Nick. He had murder in his eyes and purpose in every move, but he hardly seemed to notice her. "I'll find him," he'd said after a long interrogation. Nothing about her not dying, which was far more important to her. Just "I'll find him." He came into the room outside her cell every now and then, seemingly just to check that she was alive and ask the other officers if they'd found anything new.
Someone tapped on the plexiglass partition that made up one wall of Jenny's room, and she jerked upward in bed, clutching her quilt to herself like a shield. The officer tapping on the glass drew back apolegetically.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Your father's on the line," he said, pointing at the phone in Jenny's room. Most prisoners didn't have their own phone, but the officers wanted to be able to reach Jenny at all times, and they also wanted her to be able to call anyone she wanted, especially her family.
Daddy! Jenny thought with a flood of relief and comfort. She'd been so overwhelmed she hadn't even thought to tell him what had happened. Of course the police would have let him know. He would have been there already if he wasn't housebound for three weeks while his bionic knee mended. She picked up the phone and smiled as she pressed it to her ear.
"Hey beautiful."
Jenny froze, except for her trembling hand. She wanted to slam the phone down or call for the officers to trace it, but everything was moving so slowly. The voice on the other end was low and sinister. There was a malicious undertone, like a roll of thunder. It was cold and vicious all at once, and it was not her father.
"You think you're safe now," the voice went on. Jenny started to shake, sure that the very voice could crawl out of that phone and stand before her to finish what it had started. "There's nowhere I won't find you. The only place you're safe is in the grave."
There was a sudden bang, and Jenny jerked back and dropped the phone. Nick nearly knocker her over as he grabbed the falling phone and put it to his ear.
"Reaper?!" he shouted, and the sudden explosion from such a quiet man almost made Jenny wet her pants. "Reaper?!" he shouted again. His face furrowed in fury as he slammed the phone down onto the receiver.
"Did we get a trace?" he asked one of Jenny's guards.
"It wasn't long enough," the poor man answered, bracing for another explosion.
"Did we get it recorded?" Nick demanded.
"We got that," the man answered.
"Get it to the lab for analysis," Nick said. He finally seemed to notice Jenny. "We've got him now. He won't bother you again."
Jenny wasn't so sure.
