The Midnight Call
A phone call in the middle of the night almost always means trouble.
The ringing telephone shattered the quietness of the night. Fear’s icy fingers wrapped around me. Who would call in the middle of the night?
“Yes,” Dorothy, my wife, said, “may I help you?”
I looked at my watch as I reached for the telephone. It was 12:30. “Hello. Yes, I remember him; what’s wrong?” Suddenly I was wide awake as I listened to the woman on the other end of the line. She was crying, and at times her words were hardly more than a whisper. Finally the caller said, “We need you now; please come.”
“OK, I’ll be right in,” I said.
“Who was that?” Dorothy asked.
“That was Barry’s …