“Will they?” His voice was low, amused as I coughed. “Guess I’ll have to add that to the list of things trying to finish me off. Now back off and let me work.”
I scowled. “You’re an arsehole.”
“So you’ve said.” Ryder chuckled in response, returning his attention to one of the multiple screens.
I stood there, unsure what to do. I kept finding myself drawn back to his spiderweb of photographs and notes. Ryder had tracked mum up to around the time she’d lost her job and moved in with me.
The idea that we’d been so easily found…
Mum had always been strict about our privacy, drawing firm lines when it came to the internet. While friends when I was a teen were busy posting selfies, I wasn’t even allowed to create an account.
At the time, it felt suffocating. Like being cut off from the world. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I finally made a profile of my own, but even then old habits lingered. I keptmy face hidden in most pictures, choosing instead to showcase my art rather than myself. As though mum’s warnings about privacy still whispered at the back of my mind.
So how did Ryder find us so easily?
“Who’s your boss?” I demanded. “What do they want with mum?”
Ryder let out a sound of frustration. “First off, I don’t have a boss. I work for myself. Second…” His jaw tightened. “I’ve got no fucking clue. All I know is they’re insistent about the USB drive.”
“She doesn’t…” The words slipped before I bit them back, almost giving away the lie. “I just… I don’t understand what any of this means.” And I couldn’t even ask mum about it. There was a time I would’ve gone straight to her, asked for her advice, and let her steady me the way she always used to. But in the last few years I’ve had to learn how to carry everything on my own, because I can’t afford to say the wrong thing. I can’t risk feeding a delusion that isn’t real.
“Don’t look at me, I’m just the guy they hired to retrieve it.” He gestured to the backpack he’d tossed towards his bed. “Take a look for yourself.”
The book was inside, as were all the newspaper clippings and photographs. Feeling like I needed to do something, I carefully arranged them on the floor.
Picking up the closest photograph, I studied the girl closer.
“What’s that on the back?”
I looked up to find Ryder lounging in his chair, the screen behind him pulsing with a loading bar. My fingers toyed with the photo, and when I flipped it over, a crude pencil sketch stared back at me. A flower, the lines eerily similar in style as my necklace. But rather than a violet, it was a rose.
A chill slid through my core.
Heart thudding, I turned the others over, one by one, until every photo lay face-down on the carpet. Each one was marked with similar drawings, each one a different flower.
“Can I use your phone?” I asked shakily.
Ryder eyed me with suspicion. “Why?”
I forced myself to hold his stare, even as a cold weight settled in my stomach. “Because I left mine when… Does it even matter?”
“Well, yeah. Depends on who you’re calling.”
“Please… I need?—”
“No.” His tone was final. “No phone calls until you hand over the USB drive.”
My chest tightened. “What? If you don’t give me the phone, I’ll…” My voice trailed off. What would I do?
Shit. I needed to work on my threats.
“Oh, don’t leave me in suspense.” His smile was slow and deliberate. Mocking. “What were you going to do?” Ryder stubbed out his cigarette, only to reach into his pocket for a knife.
I stifled my immature response, flinching when he opened it with a snap.
“Look, I need to cancel my class. You’ll have to tell your sister that…”
A chuckle vibrated up his throat as the knife flashed open and shut, flicking between his fingers with a casual, dangerous ease.
