empty.
“Can I help you ma’am?” An older lady sitting behind a desk asked.
“I need to see about filing a restraining order,” I said quietly.
“Have a seat, someone will be with you shortly,” she said with a sad smile.
I sat in the chair trying to keep my knees from bouncing around. I was so nervous.
“Ma’am?” An older man opened one of the doors and looked in my direction.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Come with me, please,” he said, as he held the door open for me to walk through. I followed him down the narrow hallway, and then turned left into his office.
“How can I help you?” he said, as he pulled out a yellow notepad.
“I need to see about filing a restraining order against my ex-boyfriend,” I said quietly, holding my bouncing knees in place with the palms of my hands.
“What’s his name?” he asked.
“Jake Edwards,” I said.
“Hmm,” he said with a smirk. I wasn’t sure what that was about, but he seemed to have lost his compassion for me in an instant.
“Why do you feel like you need a restraining order?” he said, as he took a sip of his coffee, and put the notepad down.
“Well, he hit me for one,” I said with a bite to my tone. I didn’t mean to, but he was already pissing me off.
“Did you call the police?” he asked.
“No,” I said, quietly.
“And, why not?” he asked, with that same tone.
“Because I left him, instead,” I said. “But he won’t leave me alone. He broke into the new place I’m staying.”
“He burglarized you’re property?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you call the police, then?” he asked with a crooked smile. This guy was a jerk.
“No, because he only took my work clothes, and I couldn’t really prove it was him.”
“Ok,” he said, but I got the feeling he wasn’t even paying attention to me. But I was finishing my story, anyway. I needed help.
“He’s constantly calling me, following me, and this morning this was on my car.” I pulled out my phone and showed him the picture.
“But you didn’t see him vandalize your car?” he asked.
“No, I didn’t,” I said. I had a feeling this was going nowhere fast.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but since you didn’t contact the police at either time of his alleged crimes, and you really have no solid proof that he even did these things, there’s not much I can do.”
“I have the text messages saved,” I said, holding my phone.
“Is he threatening to harm you in those text messages?” he asked, as he shuffled paperwork, without even looking at me.
“No,” I said, realizing I was wasting my time.
“Ma’am, look, it’s not illegal to call someone names or send them nasty text messages. I’m not really in the business of getting involved in lovers’ quarrels. And since you didn’t feel it necessary to call the police during either one of the crimes you’re alleging, there’s really not much I can do,” he said, as he slurped loudly on his coffee. Douche.
“So you won’t help me at all?” I asked, pleading. He was a jerk, but he was an officer of the law, and my only hope.
“Not won’t…just can’t,” he said, as he stood and opened his door.
“Now, if you’ll head back up to the front room, I’ve got some pressing business to attend to.”
“Thanks a lot,” I said sarcastically, as I stormed past him and pushed open the door at the end of the hall.
As soon as I got in my car, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. But they weren’t even tears of sadness. I was pissed off. Isn’t the law supposed to help you? That guy couldn’t have cared less what I had to say. I knew it wouldn’t do any good to try and speak with someone else, not in this little town. There were maybe three cops in the whole town, and they were always together. You couldn’t miss them at the diner or parking lots, just sitting around. Trying to get them to help me would be pointless. Damn it.
Chapter 11
Surprisingly, the next few days went by quietly. I
Dean Wesley Smith, Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Martin A. Lee, Bruce Shlain