Ivy felt her anger dissipate a little. She was about to leave when she spotted a crisp, clean envelope on the desk. Ivy strode forward.
Her name was scrawled across the front in big, bold, capital letters: “IVY.”
An apology? A resignation?
Did Dr.Moorehead hear about what Zeke had done already?
Ivy didn’t know. Thought it was best to just leave it.
But fuck Dr.Moorehead.
Ivy picked it up. It wasn’t sealed, and she flipped the flap back. Teased out a folded piece of paper. Unfolded it.
At first, Ivy wasn’t sure what she was looking at. A piece of paper with printed words on it. She’d been expecting an apology, but this wasn’t that.
It was... a poem?
At the top, in bold, was the number, “8001.”
Then,
Not quite perfect, but close to right,
Add the missing number, reveal the site.
You have 27 minutes—so don’t be late,
Fail, and a life meets its final, sulfurous fate.
This was followed by two numbers: 40.3299 and -74.6510.
Ivy read the note three times.
It made less sense after each reading. But the poem and the numbers seemed somehow familiar to her.
Where have I seen this before?Ivy wasn’t sure.
She nervously looked around the room.
Spotted a camera in the corner, up high. Similar, if not identical to the one she recalled seeing in the barn in which the prisoner’s dilemma had been played.
Her heart rate spiked again, and she reread the note a fourth time.
One word stood out to her: “sulfurous.”
As in,hydrogen sulfide gas.
She fumbled with her phone.
“Vaughn, I think we’ve got another one... I think there’s going to be another attack.” Her voice cracked. “I think there’s going to be another murder.”
?Chapter 59
Vaughn had alot to say to Darnell, but now was not the time.
“I want my son released,” Devon Godfrey demanded. He was like a puffed-up version of his kid. Blond hair, tall. A little soft, but still imposing.
Vaughn took one look at him and pictured the man on his back, lacing his forearm across his neck as he’d done with Zeke.
