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I could have sworn that it had no signal when I checked a moment ago. Pete said that we would have no bars out here, and every time that I’ve checked, I haven’t had any. I must be at just the right angle to catch a signal or something because it’s definitely got a signal now.

I don’t recognize the number, but that’s not unusual. Mr. R calls us from various numbers depending on what he’s doing at that moment.

“Hey,” I answer as I pick up the phone. When no one speaks for a while, I pull it away from my ear. “Is anyone there? Do you need help?”

“Jensen, I . . .”

“Knox?” I ask in pure shock because what the fuck? I haven’t seen or heard from him since he disappeared when we were kids.

The gates at Zemi’s place reminded me of him. They were eerily similar, and now he’s calling me?

That’s a pretty big coincidence.

He had this amazing cabin deep in the woods on the edge of town. The property was huge, and he used to throw the best fucking parties. It was mainly for the college kids, but a few of us got in there. He had a huge lake and owned all the woods as well, so it was quite similar to Raid’s place, which is why I said I would freak out if we drove up to their house and there was a cabin and a lake. It was just Knox who lived there. He was only a couple of years older than us, and I guess we just clicked.

He felt like kin, that’s the best way that I can describe it.

He had a pretty horrific past, which is probably what bonded us. Like attracts like and all that shit. We recognized the dark in one another, and none of us had to pretend that we were something that we weren’t. That’s rare to find. His past is also why he used to throw so many parties, to distract himself from it.

Was it healthy? Hell fucking no.

Was everyone too fucking scared of him to do anything about it? Hell yes.

While we didn’t fear him as much as many others did, we understood, and considering the sort of shit that we got up to at the time in order to help ourselves feel better, we definitely weren’t the ones to judge.

His family also founded our hometown, which we found out by accident, because although we were taught the history of the town in school, we were never taught that. I never got the chance to talk to him about it, and it has been one of those things that my brain brings up every couple of years.

We went up one day to talk to him about something, it slips my mind what it was now, but it might have been something to do with one of our jobs, and he was gone.

The place was deserted, and a glance in the window told us that he wasn’t coming back any time soon since everything was covered in sheets.

Then there was the letter. It was addressed to me, and it was odd enough, although I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why, that I’ve kept it. I still have it, it’s in a drawer in my room. I have no idea why I’ve kept it, but it never felt right to throw it away, and as I said, it still fucking bugs me.

“Knox?” I ask again since he hasn’t replied.

His voice comes through, crackling and keeps dipping out, “Jensen . . . you . . . I . . .”

That’s all I hear before the line goes dead.

“Fuck,” I curse as I quickly redial his number. It just rings straight through, and I frown.

“What’s up?” Cash asks as he appears out of fucking nowhere and makes me jump. He frowns. “Dude, I wasn’t being quiet then. What’s going on?”

“Guess who called me?”

His eyebrows draw down. “Erm, your dad?”

“Alright, rude. More people than just my dad call me,” I retort, momentarily distracted.

Cash smirks. “Of course they do. Who called?”

“Knox.”

“As in family-owned the town, we just saw gates at Zemi’s that looked almost exactly like the ones at his place, all mysterious Knox, that Knox?” Cash asks, immediately knowing who I’m talking about.

I nod. “Yep, the phone kept cutting out, and I could barely hear him, but I’m almost certain that it was him.”

Cash’s frown deepens. “Are you sure?”