Calling Mr. Nelson Pugh ✔️

*** TWO ***

Only after I clicked over to the other line did I realize that I had hung up without telling Eleanor goodbye. More importantly, I had not told her that I loved her. Perhaps that was a trivial matter considering the circumstances, but I knew in that instant that I had spoken with my wife for quite possibly the last time; too much had been left unsaid. I had only a moment to reflect on this regret before the immediacy of my situation took hold.

On the other end of line I heard someone breathing.

I did not know how to respond. My brain tried to form words, and my lips to utter them, but neither succeeded. What did one say to the man that was stalking his family?

In the quiet of that open line a faint sense of peace rose amidst the panic. I blinked and my eyes held shut for a moment. Time stretched. It would have been so easy to just fall asleep and drift away.

Then it struck me. I gasped as a another jolt shot through my chest and slammed my head back, banging it against the wall. That only managed to trigger another stab of pain, this one in the back of my head, and as this new pain hammered in, I bit down catching the tip of my tongue. A light trickle of blood began to flow. Perhaps it was a result of the taste of blood in my mouth, or of the pain that had shook my system, but I began to wake from my pill-induced haze.

That is when the silence on the other end of the line broke.

"You do not sound well, Nelson." The voice drifted in, light and soft, just barely a whisper. Yet behind its calm tone a strength of purpose loomed. The man spoke directly without a hint of question. Each word came forward carefully annunciated and spoken with a rigid level of control.

Those words froze me still as a corpse.

"You really should answer me." Did I recognize that voice?

The quiet stretched out once more, as if each of us willed the other to speak first. I knew that I would lose this battle. Even in this stranger's silence I could sense his resolve and it frightened me.

I waivered, uncertain of what to do. Then an idea struck me. This wasn't so much a light bulb of an idea, but a bright flashing neon sign of an idea. My name did not appear in Eleanor's phone. She had me listed as 'Husband.'

"You know me, don't you?" I had to know him. It made sense, right? Crimes are most often committed against you by people you know; that's what the reports say. Stranger danger is but a misdirection clouding us from the real threat – the anger and jealousy stirred within our own very personal relationships. Yes, I must have known this man.

He didn't answer.

"You know my name," I continued.

"Names are easy to come by."

"But you called me Nelson. Not Mr. Pugh, not Mr. Nelson Pugh, but Nelson."

"Don't delude yourself. You cannot control this. You cannot spin the tide in your favor." So calm. So calculated. And why had he mentioned the tide of all things?

My mind raced through the possibilities. Who could want to hurt me, to hurt my family? Who could I have hurt to such a degree that this seemed an appropriate recourse?

Suddenly the alarm bells went off. One person had a reason to hate me. I had betrayed our friendship of nearly fifteen years. By convincing Mr. Rochester to keep me on staff, I had cost Stan Meyers his job. We had been friends before the cutbacks. After Rochester let Stan go, or let's be blunt, after Rochester fired Stan, however, Stan's life had turned to shit. His marriage had collapsed under the strain of supporting a family on unemployment. His drinking had grown out of control and he had fallen into a downward spiral. During that time I had been unable to face him. I still couldn't. I knew that I should have been there for him, but I didn't know how to look Stan in the eyes knowing what I had cost him. Stan Meyers had reason to hate me. He bore a wound both recent and brutal.