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Simon takes the laptop from me and sits on the edge of his bed while my mother launches into an explanation that somehow manages to include the tape, the chief, her extensive investigation into my associates, and a brief defense of why reading an interview with Cebastian's mother does not constitute stalking. Faun wriggles out of her arms halfway through and makes himself at home on Simon's bed, turning three circles before collapsing against his thigh. Simon barely seems to notice. His attention is fixed on the family photograph, then the quote beneath it, then back on the photograph again.

“That's definitely him?” he asks.

“The chief?” I lean over his shoulder and point between the old footage and the photograph. “Yeah. Older here, obviously, but that's him.”

“And Cebastian never mentioned that his father was chief of police in the town where the case we're currently investigating happened?”

“Nope.”

Simon looks up at me. “That's fucking weird.”

“That would be the understatement of the century.”

“I've been saying that for the last several minutes,” my mother points out.

“You've also been saying you recognized his father's aura through a photograph.”

“I said energy, Bear. An aura is visual.”

Simon looks between us. “I'm not getting involved in whatever this is.”

He turns back to the laptop, makes it approximately two seconds, then slowly looks up again. “Wait.” He points at her. “Why is your mom here?”

My mother smiles brightly. “Hello, Simon.”

“You know my name?”

“Of course I know your name.”

Simon looks at me in genuine alarm. “Why does your mom know my name?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?”

He considers this. “No.”

“Excellent. Moving on”

My phone is already back in my hand. I check the messages again, expecting the little read indicator that still isn't there, then call Serena for what has to be the fifth time. It rings long enough for Simon to look up from the laptop.

Voicemail.

This time, the silence afterward feels different.

I lower the phone slowly and check the time. She's been gone long enough now that the walk should have done whatever she needed it to do. More importantly, Serena knew exactly what we were doing when she left. She handed me the drive herself. She knows we're watching the tape, knows there's a third man on it we haven't identified, knows we might find something. There is no fucking way she sees four missed calls and a CALL ME NOW. We found something. text from me and decides she'll get around to it later.

“Maybe she put her phone on silent,” Simon offers, but his voice has changed too.

“She'd check it.”

He studies me. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

Serena checks. She verifies. She circles back. She is incapable of leaving a variable unattended when she knows it might have changed. If she saw my name on her screen this many times, she'd respond even if only to tell me to stop fucking calling her.

I shove the phone back into my pocket. “Where's Tamsin?”

Simon frowns. “Her room, probably.”