Cole is in a meeting. Maya isn't answering. I'm the only one available.
I look at the message until the screen starts to dim, then press my thumb hard enough against the edge of the phone to bite into skin.
The woman being threatened by silent phone calls is the same woman holding enough information to put my family in a federal courtroom. She is behind one door, and I am already moving toward it.
I'll check on her.
Thank you, D.
My thumb stays over the screen for a beat longer than it should.
Her building is on Thayer Street, four blocks from campus. Third floor. 3C. I've been there exactly twice. Both times with Cole. Both times standing in the doorway while he dropped off food she forgot to eat.
The walk takes eight minutes. I take the stairs. I knock.
Silence. I knock harder.
"Maya."
Footsteps. Light, quick. She stops on the other side, and I can feel her looking at me through the peephole.
"Cole sent me," I say.
The deadbolt turns. The door opens six inches with the chain still latched. Her face appears in the gap, framed by the brass line and the dark green collar of her sweatshirt. Her hair is down. Her eyes are tired, but the set of her mouth is the same one she wore last night while listing dates and case numbers from my couch.
"Cole sent you," she repeats, flat.
"You're not answering his texts. He's worried about the phone call."
Her jaw tightens. "You told him."
"He asked how you were."
"So now he's worried, and you're here, and I'm standing in my doorway explaining myself to a man I didn't invite."
"I'm checking on you. For Cole. That's it."
Six inches of open door between us. The chain is brass and old.
"Your heat fixed?" I ask.
"The landlord came."
"Good."
"Was there something else?"
"No."
She starts to close the door.
"Someone is calling you and making your hands shake," I say. "You're also carrying enough to put my family in a federal courtroom. I need to know which one of those things is going to get you hurt first, and I'd rather have that conversation inside."
The door stops. "Are you asking because you're worried about your family, or because you're worried about me?"
"Both."
"At least you're honest." She reaches up and unhooks the chain. The door opens.
