Flytrap | WATTYS 2022 SHORTLIST

9 | Botany

Holding the phone tight against her ear, Barbara listened as it rang three times, hoping no one would pick up on the other end. But on the fourth ring, someone did, and she heard a familiar Chicago accent greet her.

"Hey, Mom," she answered. "Sorry I haven't called. I've been really busy. Yeah, I know it's only been a week but I still should've called."

"Things here are good..." Barbara chewed on her lip as she thought carefully about the next words out of her mouth. "Um, dad has a new fiancee."

There was a heavy pause, and for a moment, Barbara thought her mom had hung up. "Hello? Mom?"

"Yeah, I met her." She sighed with relief after hearing her mom's voice. "And no, it's not Sarah. Yes, she's younger. About ten years younger." Well, at least she looked about ten years younger. But she couldn't exactly tell her mom that, could she? Not without raising too many questions.

"I think he met her at a party. Yeah, I don't get why he hid it from us either." She started fidgeting with the cord, twisting its coiled curls around her finger. The truth was she knew exactly why he hadn't told her, and it was the same reason Barbara regretted doing so. Her mom would start on a tirade about James's failings as a husband, father, detective, and whatever else she could list. Just like she was doing now.

"Mom, dad does care. He's just been busy. There have been some high-profile disappearances and he-No, he hasn't been home," she admitted. "But that doesn't mean he's forgotten about me." Maybe she should've told her mom that Pamela was an eighty-year-old woman. It might've spared her the rant she'd grown up hearing for the past nine years.

From out in the hall, a low snarl drowned out her mother's voice, drawing Barbara's attention. Not because it echoed through the paper-thin walls or because there was another voice accompanying it, but because it was not the soft, velvety sound Barbara had come to associate with Pamela. But despite its harsh tone, there was no mistake it belonged to a woman. And what other woman lived in this house?

Ignoring her mother's endless ranting and raving, she pulled away from the phone and listened in on the argument. Although it sounded like the voices were right outside her door, Barbara couldn't make out a word of what they were saying. But what she could make out was that the other voice did not sound like a woman's but like a young male's. Could it be Richard's?

"Hey, Mom. Let me call you back." She quickly hung up the phone, letting it slam back into place with an audible click. Upon rolling into the hallway, she found that the voices hadn't been right outside her door at all, but were coming from the entryway ahead.

Whatever they had been arguing about must have been intense since Pamela and Richard were glaring daggers at each other, not even noticing Barbara staring at them just a few feet away. Without another word, Pamela turned on her heel and left the house, slamming the door behind her.

"What was that about?" Barbara asked as she rolled herself towards where Richard was standing.

"Pamela's just mad that I'm here." Richard shrugged as he twisted the blinds open. Parked in the same spot as before was the black Lincoln from yesterday. Before Barbara could even consider getting its license plate, it took off, leaving a cloud of black smoke behind.

"Not even good ole Harvey Dent is immune to Pamela's 'charms.'" Richard shook his head as he shut the blinds.

"Harvey Dent?" Where had she heard that name before? Was it from one of the articles? No, that couldn't be right. She remembered hearing his name spoken out loud.

"Yeah, the district attorney," he said. "He was elected after the last time you were here, so figures you don't know him."

Barbara's eyes widened as she suddenly recalled where she had heard the name. Bruce had just said it when the funny-looking man burst in, interrupting whatever explanation he was about to give. But Barbara had a pretty good idea where he was going with it. "That's him? He's the D.A.?"