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Someone is watching me.
The unrelenting knot in my gut tightens. It twists and turns and constricts. Robs me of breath and forces bile up my throat.
As I slip into the driver’s seat and start the car, I gasp for air. The tremor from earlier returns, stretching, expanding, crawling its way along my limbs as a chill rolls up my spine. Perspiration dampens my skin as my heart bangs, bangs, bangs in the confines of my rib cage. I pinch my eyes shut and pray for this to end. Pray for enough solace to make it home safely.
I peel off my jacket, crank the air conditioning as high as it will go, and take slow sips of cool air. Hour-long minutes pass before my pulse eases to a reasonable rhythm. Inhaling deeply, I count to ten and try to gain some form of composure.
Hands less shaky, I buckle my seat belt, back out of the parking space, and exit the lot. The drive home is brief, but the entire ride is a blur of empty streets and silent sidewalks. Not a soul meanders through town. Front yards are void of children and laughter and fall fun.
Since the woman in the woods, Stone Bay is a ghost of its former self. Eerie and cold and desolate.
The pang in my gut eases a fraction as I park in the driveway. I bolt from the car to the front door, scurry inside, and twist the deadbolt immediately. Then I take my first true breath since leaving work.
I’m home. I’m safe.
My fingertips are prunes by the time I step out of the shower. While the hot water soothed the ache in my muscles, it did nothing to alleviate the chill in my bones.
I towel off as I amble into my bedroom. Fishing my softest sweatpants and baggiest shirt from the dresser and closet, I dress in a daze. I toss the towel in the direction of the laundry basket, crawl onto the bed, and burrow under the covers. My body shakes from head to toe as I curl into a ball and close my eyes. An image of the note flashes behind my lids and my stomach flips.
Eyes wide open, I reach for my phone on the nightstand and check for missed texts or calls.
Nothing.
“Please call,” I beg, my voice hoarse.
I unlock my phone, check my message and call history as if I disbelieve the lack of notifications, then whine when I get the same results. Nothing.
It’s Travis. He will call.
Needing a distraction, I open social media and scroll, scroll, scroll through one of my happy places. Bright, cheery pictures and videos of my favorite influencers with new products flood the screen. Makeup tutorials, workout attire, lotions, handbags—the list goes on and on. I read the captions or react to the posts as per usual. Contemplate posting something in my stories to keep my page active but decide not to. Instead, I scroll to divert my attention.
Time passes as I get lost in the secondary world that brings me joy. The more I scroll, the more I slow down. The more time that passes, the more captions I read. I lose sight of why I opened the app in the first place. For the briefest of moments, I feel light and carefree.
Until a notification appears at the top of the screen. A text message from an unknown number. With one notification, a knife pierces my chest. I gasp and grip the phone tighter, pain shooting up my arm as I tap on the notification.
Unknown
This is Travis
My thumbs hover over the keyboard, unsure what to say first. The phone vibrates in my hand as another message appears.
Unknown
I’m calling
I type outokayand go to press send, but don’t get the chance.Unknown callerfills the screen as my phone vibrates over and over in my hand. Thumb over the accept button, I close my eyes, press down, and bring the phone to my ear.
“Hey.”
SIXTEEN
TRAVIS
After three painfully long rings,her voice fills the line. “Hey.” The three-letter word is scratchy and frail as it hits my ear. A muffled message of panic disguised as a simple greeting. But herheyis far from simple.
I grind my molars, more pissed at myself.
With no new information and several hours of staring at the same pages and photos, the file spread out on my desk morphed into a kaleidoscope of more unanswered questions. Desperate for undiscovered evidence, I’d searched nearby towns for similar cases but came up short. Unexplained deaths weren’t always common in small towns. Most were hiking accidents. Some ruled as natural causes after a thorough autopsy.
