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Detective Straton places his pen down on the notepad and straightens his posture. “Will you consent to a search of your phone records?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Wait here. I have a paper I’ll need you to sign to give us your consent and then I can extract the data to investigate.”
I was hoping he’d have information for me right away, but they send us on our way with a promise to update me soon. Aside from telling me not to respond to any of the messages that may or may not continue, I still feel like raw bait out in the open.
Tourists still fill the streets even on a Saturday night at sunset. Most have changed out of their beach apparel to something more appropriate for dinner by the water. Despite how anyone is dressed, whoever is watching me could be wearing anything and still blend in with the crowd.
Willa’s phone rings and I watch as she reaches to pull it out of her purse, her hands still trembling. I feel responsible for her being dragged into this—whatever this is. “One second, it’s Jerry. He’s been worried. I just need to let him know what’s going on,” she says, connecting the call and moving a few steps ahead of me.
Her voice trails off after she says, “Hey, baby…” I’m not sure if she’s speaking quietly so I can’t hear her or if there’s just too much chatter around us.
The hill toward our apartment glows in orange hues as the horizon lines divide the sun in half, but as I think about getting a few hours of sleep, I realize tomorrow is just another Monday. I still have another final to get through, and I’m not sure how I’ll be able to focus on studying.
I’ll get through this. I have no choice.
A scuffle behind me steals my thoughts—and my breath—as a gloved hand claws around my mouth and nose with so much pressure the air locks into my lungs. I can’t make a sound. Anarm wrenches around my stomach and I’m pushed into a narrow alley between two blocks of souvenir shops.
My heart is in my throat, my stomach churning. I’m trapped in a feral struggle, feet grazing the ground. I fight against their hold, but I’m weaker than they are. Shock overwhelms me. I can’t even twist my head and a cold sweat steals my strength. Whilst panicking, I try to focus on my senses: a dumpster, a metal fence, musty fabric from the glove over my face, and my feet scraping against the uneven pavement.
The person shoves my back up against the brick edifice and pins me at the neck. They’re wearing a ski mask and a black sweatshirt with their hood pulled halfway down their face. “I warned you,” a raspy voice seethes. Their other hand moves to grip my neck, and they squeeze so hard my tongue jolts out of my mouth. I can’t even blink as I stare at the black-clad figure. My head is becoming heavier and harder to hold up. Air isn’t moving through my lungs. I try to kick my feet to fight my way out of this hold, but my pulse is weak. A cough threatens to purge up my throat but lodges on the way. The cold sweat becomes icy, and I give in to the numbing blindness.
TWENTY
SATURDAY, JUNE 10TH 9:30 PM
“Haley!”
Darkness sloshes around me like ocean waves at night, the moon is hiding behind clouds. The water is neither warm nor cold—it’s nothingness.
I’ve seen nothingness before but haven’t felt its touch. Some things we never forget, even after thirteen years have passed. I had forgotten this indescribable feeling.
There’s so much smoke, it seems impenetrable, but it isn’t. I can’t see where I’m half walking, half crawling, trying to move as quickly as I can with no sense of direction. I’ve lived here for years and know every nook and cranny of our home but can’t find the front door. A radiating heat encircles me, and I try to stay in the center, hoping the flames aren’t engulfing the door. In our six-unit townhouse, we live front and center. I wonder if everyone else has already found their door and if I’m the last. Shouts and screams come from every direction, but it could be the sound of the alarms I’m hearing too.
I remember learning about a scalding hot doorknob and what it means in a fire. It’s the only door I can reach though, and I believe it should lead me out to the front porch. I’m coughing so hard; I’m gasping for air by the time I wrap the fabric of my T-shirt around the doorknob and shove it open. A gust of wind spirals through the smoke that was following me out the door where I fall to my knees. Everything in front of me is blurry but it isn’t nothingness. I drag myself toward the few steps leading down to the front path and again struggle to take in air, gasping through what feels like a narrow straw.
I rest on the grass, feeling the cool blades tickle the side of my cheek. Just after I close my eyes, someone lifts me up, cradling me in their arms and carrying me away from the townhomes. Lights flash around me, red and blue, but it hurts to keep my eyes open for too long.
“Where are you parents?” a man shouts.
I try to speak but I can only choke on the air in my lungs. I shake my head, trying to tell whoever asked that they aren’t with me, but I know my answer isn’t clear.
“Were they inside with you?” He asks the right question this time, and again I shake my head to say no. They were out and have no clue what’s happening to their home or me, at least not at that moment.
“Haley, can you hear me?” Hot hands grip my shoulders and fingernails dig into my flesh. “Open your eyes. Come on, girl, open your eyes!”
The screams of sirens grow in the distance. They sound just like they did that night thirteen years ago. I’ve heard them since of course, but it’s different when you think they might be comingfor you. I try to take in air, but it feels like I have something lodged in my throat, making it seem impossible to steal any oxygen from around the blockage.
“I don’t know. I just found her this way. She was behind me. Then she wasn’t. I searched up, down, and in between each of the blocks we were on and then I found her back here.”
Willa. That’s her voice.
“Haley. Her name is Haley—she’s my roommate. I didn’t see what happened because I was on the phone walking ahead of her.”
Who is she talking to?
“Haley, can you open your eyes for me?” an unfamiliar female voice asks. My eyelids won’t move, no matter how hard I try to lift my lashes. Light bleeds through them before someone pries my eyes open, momentarily blinding me.
