Page 49 of White Noise

No, little echo.

Not even fucking close.

I follow the confirmation back to Marcus and find him staring at the screen with a stupid little grin on his face.

He actually looks excited and it almost makes me laugh.

Almost.

She stares at the confirmation for another second before closing the laptop and leaving it on the kitchen island.

The screen goes black.

Marcus’s doesn’t.

I stay with him.

He’s still sitting at his desk, staring at the private-session confirmation with that same pleased look on his face. Not excited in the harmless way Saga probably imagines. Something uglier sits underneath it.

He leans back in his chair, glances toward the bedroom, then gets up.

I follow him through the camera feed.

The doll is still waiting where he left it.

Marcus grabs it by the arm and drags it with him toward the bed. On the way, he reaches for a bottle of lube from the shelf without even looking.

For a second, I just watch.

Then the irritation settles into something colder.

Saga just closed her laptop believing she picked someone familiar. Someone safe. Someone who knows how to behave.

Meanwhile, this fucking creep is hauling a fake version of her into his bedroom.

Marcus shuts the door behind him.

I stay inside the camera.

Inside the television.

Inside every connected thing in that apartment.

Tomorrow night, Saga is going to open that private call thinking she knows exactly who’s on the other side.

She doesn’t.

But I do now.

And when Marcus looks at her tomorrow, I’ll be looking back.

6

SAGA

PRIVATE SESSION

Idon’t sleep.