My stomach twists.
A campus safety email. Sent right before Cyn and I started talking.
Campus Safety Advisory: Ongoing Investigation
I delete it, unread. Fuck.
Then I bite down on my back teeth and open the texts from Nolan first.
Brotherrr
Did you call any of the ones I sent you?
Brotherrr
I’m going to take that as a no.
Brotherrr
Okay, you have until 12:00 pm to get back to me or I’ll retain them and have them call you. I might be at your door, too.
I almost laugh out loud, but I roll my eyes instead. It’s just after nine, so I have time to keep ignoring him.
Now, though, I need to read the other message.
There are two possible people in my mind. The police station, or Will. I never saved his number, don’t remember it, and I already deleted all of his texts. The unknown number’s area code is local, and Will isn’t long from Thunder Bay from the vague facts I recall of him, so he’d probably have a different area code.
Either way, if itishim, that means I’m in the news. But in that case, wouldn’t more people have texted me? At least a few? Or even my mother?
I squeeze my eyes shut tight a second, wiggling further down in my sheets, then tap back to my messages, and quickly open the unknown one before I can read the preview and chicken out.
My pulse races as I scan the words.
Just eight.
A period at the end.
Unknown
When I knock on the door, answer it.
EIGHT
NEVE
As I sit in the darkness of my cocoon re-reading the text, I hear the heavy door to Darkmouth thud closed, and relief and regret both spear through me. Relief Cynthia is gone and she won’t have to deal with whoever the fuck this is, and regret that I didn’t warn her yet not to come back.
If I text her a message like that, she’ll be here in a heartbeat, ignoring my good intentions. Besides, Casper is down there, so she’ll be okay on the way out. There’s a back entrance up a grated staircase to the apartment floor, but we never even lock it because few people know it’s back there. You’d have to climb a wall in the alleyway to get in.
I glance at the time the number sent the text.
Only a few minutes ago, which means Cyn probably won’t find them in the hall unless they’re just waiting there, but…
How do I know I should even take this seriously?
But how do I know I shouldn’t?
I briefly contemplate calling Nolan, but that’s a horrible idea. He’ll get in his Mercedes and drive his ass down here and nothing I say will stop him. Unless, of course, he’s tied up in lawyer bullshit and can’t look at his phone, but those two thingsvery rarely go together. Attorneys are glued to their fucking phones.
