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“So, is Lara holding you accountable for the loss of her sister or her child? Because her child is missing—no one has declared she’s dead, right? The entire county is searching for her child as we speak.”
The more Willa talks, the more sense I lose in what I thought I was drawing a conclusion to. I have nothing to do with their missing daughter and I’m not responsible for the death of her sister. I was thirteen. Just thirteen.
“I wish I had answers that would help me understand why any of this is happening, but the only thing I know is that Lara’s family has a history of taking everything from me.”
“What does that mean?” Willa asks, tossing her hands into the air as she follows me into my bedroom. This is why I closed myself in the bathroom. I need to process all of this and it’s hard enough to do with just my own thoughts.
“My parents were the landlords of the building, and the court held them responsible for an oversight on an electrical license, which voided the insurance policy and left them open for a personal lawsuit.”
My statement forces Willa to stop in my doorway. I assume she’s trying to place all the pieces of this puzzle together, but it doesn’t take much effort. “Her family took everything from your family because of their loss?”
“That’s what happened, yes.”
“None of this sounds fishy to you?”
“It all does, but it doesn’t matter what I think, obviously. They have the power to take people down so that’s what they’re trying to do, again.”
Willa continues to ramble, but I stopped listening after she asked me if this sounds fishy. My phone, that I left on my bed before closing myself into the bathroom, didn’t experience the same break. “The messages are back.”
Unknown Number: You should have left this state while you had the chance.
Unknown Number: You think you’re finding answers quicker than the police.
Unknown Number: You’re wrong.
Unknown Number: It won’t be long before you can convince yourself you’re innocent.
Unknown Number: This won’t stop until you do.
Unknown Number: It’s a warning, Haley.
Unknown Number: Because I can make you stop.
Unknown Number: I can make you go away. Forever.
Willa reaches over me and grabs the phone. “Let me check the app to see if it can trace the contact.”
My heart pounds as I sit on the edge of my bed, pressing my fingernails into the mattress. I try to take a deep breath, but I can’t.
The name could be random. It could be fake. It could lead to someone, or it could take me nowhere.
“Uh,” she says, exasperating with a huff.
“What? Who is it? My stomach is in knots right now,” I complain.
Deep lines stretch across Willa’s forehead and her brows knit together. “Haley, this?—”
I take the phone from her hand to see what she’s looking at and it takes less than a blink to feel sick to my stomach. “What is this?”
“I didn’t?—”
“Is this a joke?”
On the screen, listed as the source of the messages, is Willa’s full name: Willa Woodrow, Newport, Rhode Island.
“Why would I put the app on your phone if I was playing games with you?” she asks, the doe-eyed look at full tilt.
“I don’t know. Why would you?”
