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“All I know is that he’s been moved from the critical care to serious and moved out of ICU. A step in the right direction.”
She blinked, surprised that tears had formed in her eyes. “Good,” she whispered as her phone started beeping to let her know that she had voice and text messages waiting. Faiza’s name came up three different times and then a text message from an unknown number:
She’s alive.
Kara’s knees nearly gave out. Her arm shot out to brace herself against the wall and Thomas grabbed hold of her elbow. “Hey,” he said, but her eyes were riveted to the small screen and she noted the time. The text had arrived at 2:37 this morning.
“You okay?” Thomas asked.
“I don’t know,” Kara admitted, her throat tight as she fought a growing sense of panic.
“What?” There was an edge to Johnson’s voice as she caught up with them.
“This is the second time,” Kara admitted as a deputy in winter gear hurried past them. “I got this text. Second time. And a call from an unknown number.”
Johnson said, “What text?”
“I think . . . I think it’s about my sister,” she admitted, recovering slightly and feeling a flush climb up her neck that she’d reacted so violently. She saw Johnson staring at her phone while Thomas released her arm. There was no reason to lie. The police could subpoena records from her cell phone company even if they hadn’t been able to get into her phone. She bit her lip and pulled herself together. “Someone keeps texting me that Marlie’s alive.”
