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Who is this?
No message appeared, but instead, a photo.
Michael, sitting on the back porch of the Merrick house. Last night, before the fire.
Then another photo, taken from a distance.
Of him standing right here, looking at his phone.
Michael looked up, searching the trees on the other side of the pond. He begged the ground for information, but the earth returned nothing but contented vibes.
His phone vibrated with another message.
Dinner. Yes or no?
Michael wanted to punch his phone into the side of the building. He started forward, ready to search the woods himself. A new message appeared.
Don’t go too far, Michael Merrick. Wouldn’t want to leave your brothers alone, would you?
He froze. He had no idea if this was one person or several. If he walked away from this apartment building, would it go up in smoke like the house had last night?
New awareness shot off a flare in his head. Wasn’t that exactly what had happened? He’d walked away, leaving them vulnerable?
He typed back with shaking fingers.
This isn’t a game. What do you want?
I just told you what I want. Let’s say 7 p.m.?
Who are you? Is this Calla?
No. Bring her if you like. I think she’ll appreciate what I have to say.
Michael couldn’t think. Lack of sleep and an abundance of adrenaline didn’t help.
He looked out at the trees, then slowly slid his fingers across the face of his phone again.
You’re obviously here. Why don’t you come talk to me right now?
I think a crowded environment would be better for this meeting.
Interesting. Something about that statement dialed Michael’s anxiety back a notch and fed him confidence. Photos taken from a distance weren’t half as intimidating when you considered that it meant someone wasn’t drawing close.
Was this mystery texter afraid of him?
Should I come alone?
Your choice.
What if I choose to bring the cops?
Go ahead.
Michael frowned.
Another message appeared.
As I said, I am not your enemy. Bring anyone who makes you feel comfortable.
