The phone rang again. Patterson did his best to ignore it, preferring to listen to the whir of his fan. It did next to nothing about the heat, but the fan did have its useful purposes.
He could hear his secretary shuffling around her desk. She only did that when she felt anxious. Let her be anxious, Patterson thought idly. What else did he pay her for anyway, than to worry about things for him?
At last, Kelsey couldn't stand it any more. She phoned his line, and Patterson could see her gripping the phone through the frosted glass. Patterson quirked his head to the side, watching her silhouette. It's not like he had any other sort of entertainment here. He wondered if the lighting would allow her to see him through the glass. Maybe someday he would have to have her schedule an installation of some one-way mirrors. Then Patterson wouldn't feel boredom as constantly as he did now.
Her silhouette grew shrank in size as she approached the door, finally knocking on the frosted glass rather lightly. Patterson let her stew a bit longer before he called out with a sigh "What is it, Kelsey?"
"You have a phone call, sir."
"From who?"
She glanced at him, then glanced at the phone, and sighed. "Maybe you should just talk to him."
Patterson blinked, picking up his phone. "Hello?"
The voice on the other line took a moment to respond. For a moment Patterson considered pulling his anti-telemarketer tricks, but in the end he decided to entertain the offer. Unfortunately, the person on the other line didn't have the offer he expected, in fact, this person didn't even work as a telemarketer.
"Detective Patterson?" The voice asked quietly; he sounded both elderly and mild. He seemed the kind of person opposite the type that Patterson usually dealt with.
"What do you want?" Patterson asked tiredly.
"Sorry to bother you, but I'm Pastor Gabe..."
Pastor Gabe? Patterson hadn't heard from one of those in a while. What did he do this time? Did he forget to pay his taxes? Did he take the tag off his mattress? "I'm afraid I can't help you..." His hand reached to hang up the call but the pastor's voice interrupted him.
"But, Detective Patterson, I could use your help."
"Look, I'm not sure how much help I can be to you."
The pastor continued undaunted. "We're starting a prison ministry next week and--"
Patterson failed to hear the rest of the man's request. The words 'prison' and 'ministry' headed towards one another too quickly, collided in in his mind and refused to mingle peacefully. Finally, after using the patterns in the window as inkblots, Patterson resumed conversation. "Uh, sure I guess."
Pastor Gabe sounded surprised, and relieved. "Great! See you Tuesday at three."
"Wait...what? Where?"
The pastor responded with a bit of a sigh in his voice. "Columbia River Correctional Facility, in the lobby. See you then." He hung up.
Patterson stared at the receiver in his hands, and asked to no one in particular "What the hell have I got myself into this time?"
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