Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian novel Chapter 192

With regard to the driver, I have some information which I’d rather talk you through, either in person or over the phone.

See you this evening, son.

Dad.

Carrick Grey, Partner

Grey, Krueger, Davis, and Holt LLP

I call Carrick but get his voice mail. I leave a message, then sit down and peruse the notes Ros has sent me regarding our meeting yesterday with the Hwangs.

Half an hour later my dad calls.

“Christian.”

“Dad. Hello. You have news?” I stare out at the Portland skyline.

“I spoke with one of my contacts at the Astoria PD. The perpetrator’s name is Jeffrey Lance. He’s well known to the police, not only in Astoria but also in southeast Portland, where he’s from. He lives in a trailer park there.”

“He was a long way from home.”

“His blood alcohol level was 0.28 percent.”

“What does that mean?”

I turn around; unbeknownst to me, Ana has crept into the waiting room and is watching me warily.

“It means he was three and a half times over the legal limit,” Dad says, pulling me back into the conversation.

“How far above the limit?” I don’t believe it. Fucking drunks. I loathe them. From deep in that part of my brain that holds my most painful memories, the smell of stale Camel cigarette smoke, bourbon, and body odor seeps into my consciousness.

“There you are, you little prick.”

Fuck. The crack whore’s pimp.

“Three and half times,” Dad mutters, disgusted.

“I see.”

“And it isn’t his first offense. His driver’s license was suspended. He has no insurance. The police are assessing all the charges and his lawyer is trying to get a plea bargain, but—”

“All charges, everything,” I interrupt. My blood’s boiling. What an asshole. “Ana’s father is in the ICU. I want you to throw the fucking book at him, Dad.”

“Son—I can’t get involved, because of the family connection. But one of the women I work with specializes in this kind of law. With your permission, she can act on behalf of your father-in-law, and she’ll press for the heaviest penalties.”

I blow out a breath, trying to calm down. “Good,” I mutter.

“I have to go, son. There’s another call on the line. See you later.”

“Keep me informed.”

“Will do.”

“The other driver?” Ana asks, when I’ve hung up.

“Some drunken asshole from southeast Portland.”

Her eyes widen, probably at my tone, but Jeffrey Lance deserves it. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I amble over to her. “Finished with Ray? Do you want to go?”

“Um, no.” She looks anxious.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Ray’s being taken to radiology for a CT scan to check the swelling in his brain. I’d like to wait for the results.”

“Okay. We’ll wait.” Sitting down, I hold out my arms and she climbs into my lap. I stroke her back and inhale the scent of her hair. It’s soothing. “This is not how I envisaged spending today,” I murmur against her temple.

“Me neither, but I’m feeling more positive now. Your mom was very reassuring. It was kind of her to come last night.”

“My mom is an amazing woman.” I continue caressing her back and rest my chin on her head.

“She is. You’re very lucky to have her.”

I couldn’t agree more, Ana.

“I should call my mom. Tell her about Ray,” she says.

Uh-oh. At this moment her mom should be en route to Portland.

“I’m surprised she hasn’t called me.” She frowns, and I feel a little guilty about my subterfuge.

“Maybe she did,” I offer.

Ana fishes her phone out of her pocket but finds no missed calls. She looks through her texts, and from what I can see she’s received birthday wishes from her friends, but as I suspected, nothing from her mother. She shakes her head.

“Call her now,” I say, knowing she won’t get a reply. Ana does, but she soon hangs up.