Chapter Thirty Five

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Calliope

I look down at my phone and gasp.
Tears well up in my eyes.
My stomach gets nauseous.
It's a photo of Arizona.
My Arizona.
She was sitting on a pile of hay in what looked like a barn. Her hair was almost black and it was greasy. Her skin looked oily and disgusting. She obviously hasn't showered in many weeks. Her face was tear stained, her prothetic was laid beside her, cracked and broken. Her body was whipped. Her underwear was all she was wearing. And she was thin. Very thin. Less that 100 pounds I'd guess.
No.
Not my Arizona.
Stop!
I'm about to call Detective Devins and tell him the news when
Ring!
Ring!
Ring!
"Hello, Dr. Calliope Robbins Torres." I answer.
The voice was scratchy. "You know who I am. I know who you are. Let's skip introductions." The voice was a woman's voice. She was definitely a smoker.
"Who is this?" I ask.
"I just saw a picture in the media of you with another girl. I would show it to your precious Arizona, but she's sleeping. Wanna hear what she's saying?"
"Mhmm." I make out squeakily.
After rustling, I hear it.
Arizona yelling in her sleep.
"CALLIOPE! CALLIE SAVE ME! CALLIOPE I love you."
Then the voice comes back on, laughing. "Thought you'd like to hear that she still yells your name at night."
"Piss off." I say, hanging up.

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