It takes twenty minutes, heading in the opposite direction of the hotel room I was staying at when Delilah was taken, to reach a pay phone in a corner lot of a strip mall.
I know the number to call by heart. Marcus had a habit of changing the numbers he used, but he always went back to the first one we ever spoke on. For the first year the only ways we communicated were through letters and notes left at crime scenes. The year after is when he called me for the first time and I finally heard his voice. It broke me to hear the voice of my brother, grown into a man and disguising it on the other end. That was the year I met Delilah too. I suppose she’s always been a part of it.
I stared at the phone, memorizing the number he called me from while his voice burned into my mind.
It killed me in my soul to know for certain what my brother had become. How could he have thought I wouldn’t recognize his voice? His mannerisms and the way he paused between words were identical to the voice of a gleeful child. It’s odd to realize how unique a person’s speech is. For years I listened to a saved voicemail that was only fifty-three seconds long. It was a birthday message and the only recording I had of my little brother. None of the fine details and idiosyncrasies in his voice escaped me over time.
I dial the number now, each press on the small metal keypad chilling my middle finger as I do.
It rings and rings, seemingly in slow motion. The cars pass, and in the distance someone calls out to another person ahead of them. All of the noises distort around me before fading to white noise, but the harsh ring of the phone not being picked up is what stays with me. The click of an unanswered call carries a sense of finality and foreboding.
With a trembling hand, I dial the number again. Marcus has used it dozens of times with me over the years. He used to go back and forth between this one and new numbers. I wrote each one down every time he called, searching for a pattern and some way to find him. He always went back to this phone number. It’s the only one he repeated.
Ring, ring, ring.
Nothing. Nothing at all.
I try again. And again there’s nothing.
With a sinking feeling in my gut, I swallow thickly and call once more.
With thick clouds gathering above me, the gray soon blocks out the sun and the sky is shattered as lightning strikes, preceding the rumble of thunder in the distance.
Again … nothing.
Staring at the pay phone, I hesitate to leave it. If I could leave a message, I would. A plea for him to tell me she’s all right. Even if he were to never let me see her again. Even if he never spoke to me again.
To simply know he has her would ease the sickening feeling that threatens to overwhelm me as I set the handset back where it belongs.
With my limbs heavy and the darkness coming, I head back to my car in time to hear my cell phone ring. Hope is an awful thing, and it’s shattered as quickly as it came. It’s only Evan, a member of my team.
Back when I had a team, that is. There’s no doubt I’ll be forced to take leave.
Another wave of guilt and shame makes my stomach drop as I realize that’s more than likely why he’s calling. He’s giving me a heads-up.
The phone continues to ring in my hand and I let it.
I can’t answer. What could I possibly say? What truth could I provide right now that wouldn’t morph into yet another lie?
Only a moment after the vibration stops does another come, indicating a voicemail.
I can barely stand to look at it. Evan has been my right-hand man and the closest partner I’ve had on the team for years. He was practically my mentor. I’ve killed for him and he’s done the same for me. Yet here I am, hiding and knowing damn well he’d never understand. There’s no justification for bringing Delilah into this shit. Let alone what I’ve done with Marcus. There’s no way to confide in him about Delilah without also confessing the truth about Marcus. The three of us are tied together, our histories unable to be separated.
Rolling down the window, the bitter wind strikes my face and I let it. The brutality is nothing compared to what I deserve. My only options are Marcus, who won’t answer the damn phone, or lying to my partner. My eyes creep open slowly, the tiredness intensified by the chill in the air, yet all of it muted as I realize I can lie so well. All I truly need to tell Evan is what I heard on the other end of the line when Delilah was taken. I don’t have to tell him everything. All I have to do is tell him I need help finding her.