Escaping Parker - F.T. Zele Page 0,6

um . . . I don’t have his last name.”

“Clarissa, he is expecting you. Let me go back and see if he is ready. Give me a second.” She smiles, backs out of her chair, and disappears behind the only door I see here. There isn’t anywhere for me to sit, so I haul my bags over my shoulder and stand there, acting busy while I check my phone. A couple minutes go by, and she comes back and holds open the door.

“He’s ready now, dear. Please follow me.” I’m slightly intimidated, not completely comfortable in this empty space.

We walk through the door and Andrew, I presume, is behind at an empty desk, with a yellow envelope sitting right in the middle. Unexpectedly, he’s also an older gentleman, gray hair, who looks full of life. I guess youth is the stereotype I have of the modern world full of technology, because you could never get my grandparents behind a computer. The funny thing is, I don’t even see a computer on his desk. An urge to flee floods my system. The only thing stopping me is the receptionist blocking the entrance.

“Clarissa, so glad you could make it. Please take a seat.” He stands up, extending his hand towards me.

“Andrew, nice to meet you,” I say, apprehension apparent in my voice.

“Can I get you something? Water, coffee?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Ok.” He motions to his secretary. “Mary, if you could please excuse us. We have some business to discuss. Thank you for showing her in.”

“Of course. Good luck, dear. He is the best at what he does. I hope it all works out for you,” she says quietly before she exits.

I quirk an eyebrow.

“I guess you’re wondering why someone who is interested in buying one of your websites doesn’t have a computer in his office, huh?” he asks.

“That did come to mind.”

“That’s because I’m not buying your website, I’m buying you freedom instead.” He leans forward in his chair, watching my reaction.

“What?”

“After your video call on Thursday with one of my associates, she immediately called me and told me how dire your situation was. She gave me the little information she had on you, including your email address, and I had some of my friends give me the lowdown on you and your husband.”

“I don’t understand,” I stutter. Did I hear him correctly, or is this all just a dream?

“I know this is all a lot to take in, so tell me if I’m going too fast, or if you have any questions. We don’t have much time.”

“Ok.”

“Since the day my daughter was killed by her ex-husband, my life has been committed to making sure women, like you and her, have a safe way to get out. I couldn’t help my daughter, but I owe it to her to help as many women and children as I can. From here, you will be taken by car to a destination not known by others. You will have no knowledge of where you are going until you get there. Everything you brought with you today stays here; I will make sure it is disposed of correctly. You can bring nothing but the clothes on your back.”

“What do I do about money? Is this for real, or is this some sick joke set up by my husband?” My mind spins as I try to take it all in. I wonder if this is real, if I’m ready, or how I will make it without anything of mine.

“Right now, you don’t need to worry about money. We’ll get you all set up, and once you have a new name, social security, and appearance, we’ll go from there. Although, I must let you know, this isn’t something that is going to happen overnight. This is a long process of running, never staying in the same place for too long. You’ll have someone I appoint to your case with you for a while, so you won’t be alone. Do you have any questions?” he asks, sympathy etched in his eyes.

“Can I call my parents?” I gulp back the lump in my throat. “They don’t have the slightest clue that this has been going on, and I just want to say goodbye to them.”

I don’t know if this is real. I try to feel him out, gauge his honesty. How can I just jump into this, wondering if Steven has set this up to see how far I would go to leave? How will I ever know if