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To my shock, though, the phone suddenly picked up.
“Hello?”
It was a young woman’s voice—maybe Isabelle’s age, but definitelynotIsabelle, thank God.
“Who’s this?” I asked, startled.
“Um, no.Youcalled me. Who are you?”
I paused. “This is Rust.”
There was a pause on her end.
“Rust?”She sounded surprised, but not confused, which made the hairs on the back of my neck stand tall. “Hang on.”
I could hear a shuffle on the other end, and then muffled voices talking:
“Um, Rust just called me.”
“Rust? How’d he get your number?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve got him here on the phone. What do you want me to say?”
“Give me the phone.”
A new voice came on the line. “Hello?”
My broken heart sank to my stomach.
It was Isabelle.
“Oh my God,” I said, gasping for air. “You, Isabelle. It wasyou!I can’t believe it.”
“What was me? What are you talking about, Rust?”
“The video of Laura!Yousent that to me!”
Her deafening silence spoke volumes.
“Rust … let me explain,”she said.
“You don’t have to,” I said, and hung up.
Because we’re done.
