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I take a big gulp of water and swallow my disappointment that it isn’t anything stronger.
“Honestly, Em, I don’t know how I make it through my days without you here. But yeah, classes are going well. You missed a shitload of drama last week.”
College drama. It does nothing for me anymore. How could it? All that stuff seems so rudimentary and childish after everything I’ve been through lately.
“Like what?” I ask her anyway, because I know she’s dying to tell me.
“A bunch of cops showed up on campus to question that TA that Trevor’s dating.”
My heart speeds up and my mouth goes dry.
“Wh—what for? What did they want?”
“Well, the rumor mill has been working overtime on that one. Apparently she’s the one who called them, and from there the details get sketchy.”
My legs are jelly. I need to sit down. Peter didn’t mention anything about this to me. I flop onto the couch.
“Some people are saying she called the cops on Trevor after he lost his shit and got violent with her, but there’s another story saying she called to report him missing.”
How could Peter’s team not have picked up on this? Whatever the reason, any activity related to Trevor is supposed to raise flags at the station. Or at least that’s what he told me.
“Has, um, has Trevor been around?” I try to sound as nonchalant as I can.
“That’s how the whole missing person thing started,” Heather says. “He’s been MIA on campus for we
eks.”
My phone beeps in my ear, signaling another incoming call. I pull it away to look and my heart jumps into my throat.
It’s not a call, but a text.
“Sorry, Heather, I have to go,” I say, without even bringing the phone back up to my ear.
I kill the call instantly, and with shaky fingers, I open the new text message.
You can end this. Do you want to?
My fingers start typing before my brain can catch up to what’s happening.
Yes. PLEASE! I just want this to be over. What do you want from me?
I hit send.
My ears are thudding and my breathing is coming shallow and fast. I should probably have held off on answering. I should have told Peter first.
He’d explained to me how they could triangulate the stalker’s location using cell towers. He said that even with the old SIM card destroyed, I should notify them if the creep makes contact using a different number.
But bringing Peter into this doesn’t feel like a good idea. Not after the accident, and what else might happen to him. I don’t want to make things worse. I don’t want to be the reason anything bad happens to Peter.
My phone beeps again. I open the message.
I just want to talk.
I type, I’m listening, and hit send.
Almost instantly, my phone beeps again.
In person. NO COPS.
