Page 112 of You Know Why

You are not safe there. Leave. As quickly as possible. Go now. Go home.

Bring us the money he stole, every dime of it, or he dies.

Gonna kill him slow, Brooklyn. And then I’m coming for you. Tick tock.

These conversations feel familiar. Four senses my confusion.

“If you’re seeing things you recognize, that’s because this phone is a clone of yours. So any texts that you got before are showing up here, too.”

“Oh my God. I talked to your dad in Atlanta, before the accident. This is what he told me then. I forgot. And the messages . . . they disappeared. How?”

My sage of a son smiles. “Every messaging app has a function to wipe messages, or disappear them after a certain length of time. And there are programs you can buy that do it as well. Since this phone is cloned, the messaging app doesn’t know to tell it to self-destruct. It’s tied to the account, not the phone number.”

I cup his adorable chin. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

“I know. Try him again.”

Saucy kid. “Where are you?” I say as I type the words. Nothing happens. I stare at the screen, willing it to come to life. Nothing happens.

“Well, it was a good try, sweetie. What else did your father tell you?”

Before he can answer, the phone buzzes in my hand, and my heart stops.

Brooklyn? Is that you?

Yes. Oh my God, Trey are you all right?

I need to know it’s really you. Tell me something only we know.

I think for a second. The adrenaline has chased away a lot of the fog. I focus hard, and remember something that I know he will, too.

We made Four under a rainbow.

The phone shakes with a barrage of updates, and the relief I feel is overwhelming. I am covered in goose bumps, and tears skid down my cheeks.

Oh, baby.

I love you so much.

I am so glad you’re okay.

Do you have the wallets?

Yes.

Okay. Okay. Great. Keep them hidden at all costs, Brook. Our lives depend on it.

Trey, where the hell are you?

I’m close, baby. I’ll come for you soon.

I need you now, Trey. I’m not 100%. I can’t handle all of this.

I’m not kidding. Already, this burst of concentrated energy is waning. My head is throbbing.

Come home. I’m sure we can figure this out—whatever this is—together. Everyone’s looking for you. There are FBI agents crawling all over the house. And a cop from your hometown in Malogen, Theresa Lee.

Three dots. They disappear, then appear again.