Billie Girl

Chapter Thirty Four

Hot legs

Michelangelo's David

Virgin snow

Everlasting life

Angel Daddy

These were all words and phrases that I thought might work as my panic words. But I kept coming back to the words. "Angel Daddy," It seemed to me that these words tripped lightest on my tongue, and I did feel that Daddy was the angel that would be watching over me that night. I guessed he was powerless to look after Leslie. But she was the first to admit that they had never been close in life, and so it was probably the same in death.

When Blake first met me, he told me he sensed there was a magical force that watched over me. Even Tova had said that sometimes, in the right light, she could see a circular halo over my head. Maybe the fact that I was singled out as the person that would bring down this killer was because Stanley saw a powerful glow all around me.

Angel Daddy...

Those two words put together seemed to sum up everything.

When Stanley called at 5:30 on the dot, I told him my choice for my panic words.

"Angel Daddy," he said in the most understanding tone. At a moment like this, I imagined myself a songstress like Taylor Swift, and I had been asked to brainstorm the name for my latest CD and Stanley was my record producer.

"I like it. The reason why we want you to choose no more than two words is because you might be in a very compromising situation where every second counts, and we would not want you to have to recite a long phrase, and words like "help me" might trigger the killer to escalate his aggression. Sometimes when a victim grovels, it can become a self-fulfilling prophecy, and they often meet their demise much quicker than if they had just stayed calm and collected."

"I think I get what you are saying. So, is it OK if I just stick with 'Angel Daddy?'"

"Angel Daddy it is. So listen, what I want you to do is tell your mother that you are going to begin your work with us. Tell her that you will be back in a few hours. I have your home number, and I can call her and give her updates and assure her that you are in good hands. Ok, Billie?"

"OK and listen, I want to thank you for allowing me to be a part of the operation. It is very empowering. And is it OK if I just call you Stanley now?"

"Sure, I think at this juncture we can dispense with formalities. And you are to be commended for being a very brave cookie, Billie."

My mother was in her room lying down with the dogs and watching one of those horrifying graphic forensic shows on TV. They had always been favorites of hers. I could never understand what she saw in all that, and I was surprised that she still wanted to watch them even after Leslie's murder. She had once told me that she was fascinated by how the police were able to put clues together from the smallest bit of evidence, and watching those shows gave her hope in the justice system.

"Mom, are you OK?"

"I am fine. You know that Leslie's service is tomorrow morning. You have to tell Detective Stanley that you can't work for him tomorrow."

"I will tell him. Anyhow, he wants me to work tonight. Stanley said he will call you over the next few hours to assure you I am OK."

"I understand," she said in a deadpan tone. Nothing was really registering with her. "I'll keep the phone next to me. Now come here and give your mother a hug."

As we embraced she said, "You are all I have left and I am all you have left. So please be careful. First we lost your father, and now Leslie. I think there must be a curse on us."