Point of Control Read Free Page A

didn’t call often, so this would probably be bad news. “Andra Bailey here.”
    A robotic voice said, “You have a collect call from the Denver County Jail. Press One to accept the charges.”
    Her father had been arrested. Damn. She accepted the call.
    After a short recorded message, her father came on the line. “Andra, thank you. Beth is in New York at a conference, and I didn’t know who else to call.” Beth was his third wife, and her absence explained why her father, also a sociopath, had stepped out of his behavior construct.
    “What did you do?”
    “I got into a fistfight, and the other man went to the hospital. I’m charged with assault.”
    Oh hell. At sixty-two, her father should have been long past that kind of impulse. This wasn’t his first altercation, but the last one had been ten years ago, and he’d offered financial compensation to the victim to drop the charges. Bailey was grateful not to be a male sociopath; they had more violent tendencies. But the fact that her father, a university professor with a long history of stability, could fail to control his impulses meant that she was always at risk for the same thing. For the first time, the thought caused her real fear. She never wanted to be fired again and have to start over with a new career or in a new location. Or worse yet, end up in jail. Most negative consequences didn’t faze her, but those definitely did.
    “What can I do for you?”
    “Wire ten thousand in bail money to Express Bail Bonds and have them post it for me.”
    “As soon as I can. I’m in the airport, waiting for a connecting flight to San Jose.” Bailey kept her voice low, even though everyone around her was preoccupied and heading to the same city.
    “You’ll find a Western Union as soon as you land?”
    “Of course.” She owed him. He’d bailed her out of a few scrapes in high school and college, before she’d learned to control her dangerous impulses. Plus, she loved him and wanted to help. “Call your lawyer too.”
    “I already did.”
    “Can you get out of this?” An assault conviction could ruin his teaching career. She might have to help him out financially. He’d never been good with money and probably didn’t have much saved. She spent hers freely too, but she had also made some great stock picks, so she had a nest egg.
    “I don’t know.” Her father didn’t sound upset. But he rarely did.
    “I can’t come to Denver now because of this assignment, but if I can help out later, let me know.” She would do what she could—until his situation became too boring or uncomfortable to be around. He would understand when she walked away. Others didn’t, especially after becoming attached to her. Another reason her friendships were few and seldom lasted.
    “Thanks, Andra.”
    An overhead voice announced that her flight was boarding. “I have to go. We’ll talk again later.” They hung up without saying good-bye, a mutual understanding.
    She’d known from an early age that her father wasn’t like other people, especially other fathers. He hadn’t hugged her when he dropped her at the babysitter’s or school, and he hadn’t reacted emotionally to her accidents on the playground or bicycle. Being impulsive and fearless, she’d had plenty. In her early years, she’d assumed his indifference was because her mother had died and he was sad. When she was eleven, he’d sat her down and talked about sociopathy, both his and hers. He’d apparently known, or assumed, since she was a preschooler that she had the disorder too. A particular incident when she was five had convinced him. During their sociopathy talk, he’d brought up the kindergarten incident, and she had remembered the day vividly. In recalling it at the time, she’d cemented the episode in her mind, because it had been a turning point for her.
     
    The playground slide was hot from the sun, but she used it anyway—a beautiful afternoon in late May. Kindergarten was over for the