Page 30 of Requiem & Reverie

I’ll be there.

* * *

Jonah stands before me, running his hand through his hair, looking more stressed than I’ve ever seen him before. “We got a location. Roughly. Looks like a Wi-Fi connection. It’s not exact, but it’s within a mile of the abandoned silo. Same place Denny …. Where he was found.”

“Then, let’s go.”

“Nola, this could get ugly. We don’t know who this guy is, or what this operation might be. Could be more than one. I’ve got officers heading there now. Just sit tight, okay?”

Everything inside of me tells me to fight my brother on this. To insist that I be the one to retrieve my son. He’s my son, after all.

Instead, I nod, because I have no choice, but my senses tell me this guy is smarter than that. He expects that phone to be traced, because why would he ask for my trust?

But I don’t tell my brother this, because he’s always been the more level-headed. The more logical. I’m the impulsive, irrational one. The one who runs off with a boy, instead of going to college, and gets pregnant at seventeen. I’m the one who lets a man, a stranger, into my home, because I need some fucking Christmas cash. I’m the one who would’ve raced out that door, the second I received that text, without the slightest hesitation, because my son is counting on me to find him.

So, phone in hand, shivering like a goddamn leaf in a hurricane, I’m the one who sits tight, just as he said to. And, like a thousand nightmares coming to life inside my head, the memories of that place where Denny was murdered only add to the terror doing its best to shake the shit out of me. The same terror my son is undoubtedly suffering. I have to remember that.

Minutes pass. I get up and pace.

Seconds tick. I still pace, biting my nails.

The air feels thicker, warmer than before, but my hands are ice cold.

A tight band squeezes around my chest, and when I stop to imagine my son kept in some abandoned silo, where he watched the murder of his father, that band damn near strangles me.

“Yeah, Jonah, you there?” Grim’s voice finally comes over the two-way.

“What do you got?” Speaking into the mouthpiece, Jonah’s eyes are dead on me.

“Found a phone here. Looks like a burner. Nothing else. We searched the place, and it’s empty. But there’s a message typed on a small scrap of paper, taped to the screen. Looks similar to the one we found in Marnee’s car.”

“What’s it say?” Jonah asks, dropping his gaze from mine, as if to listen carefully.

“Says Game Over.”

Panic ripples down my spine, while cold branches of fear crystalize inside my veins. The phone in my hand buzzes, and I stare down at another message that’s popped up on the screen. Just as before, I click through to the unfamiliar app and open the message there.

I thought I could trust you, Nola. The deal is off. Oliver sends his love.

Cold and numb. That’s all I feel. Paralyzed. I drop the phone, as my mind tries to decipher what all this means. No. No, no, no.

“No.” I shake my head and swipe up the phone again. “Nope.”

I click reply. Please. I’ll come to the diner alone. I promise you.

When I send it, my message pops up as a new message in the app, and I realize I’ve just sent it to myself. Whatever app this is, it’s one he set up.

There’s no reply. Minutes pass. No response.

Rubbing my knuckles across my cheek fails to produce any sense of feeling. My head is dizzy. The air grows thicker. Suffocating.

Jonah reaches across the table, and the second his fingertips make contact with my arm, I wrench it away from him.

“Don’t you touch me! This is your fault! I should’ve never told you anything!”

“Nola, please. Listen to me ...”

“Get out! Get the fuck out of here!”