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He knows where he's going.

I wait.

Then follow.

Mercer leads me three blocks, then stops outside an older brick building. Professional offices occupy the first floor. Apartments above.

He doesn't enter.

He just stands on the sidewalk and looks at the building. Then checks his phone.

Thirty seconds later, he keeps walking.

I memorize the address.

That's the first useful thing he's given me all day.

I don't know who's inside. But I will.

My phone stays silent.

I shouldn't notice. But I do.

By the time Mercer returns to his rental late that afternoon, Callie hasn't sent another message.

Good. I wanted quiet. I got it.

So why the fuck do I keep checking my phone?

I drive back toward my rental.

My mind works through the day. The diner. The gas station. The hardware store. Then Mercer returned to Hollow Creek and stared at the brick building.

There’s a connection somewhere. There always is. I just need enough time to find it.

I stop at a red light and open our conversation again. She didn’t send me anything after I said, That’s your problem.

“Fuck.”

The light turns green. I don’t move. Someone behind me honks.

I toss the phone down and drive.

Callie needs to back off.

That's what I wanted from the beginning. For her to stop inserting herself into places she doesn't belong. Like my life.

I finally got through to her.

Good.

I don't hear from her that night.

No pictures of Alibi. No questions. No accusations that I'm James. No ridiculous commentary.

Nothing.

By ten, I've checked my phone enough times to piss myself off.