But I can’t let on to Camila that I know the truth. And I definitely can’t tell her about the cell phone. So I just shrug. “It was okay.”
Finally, she goes upstairs to work on “cleaning.” And she leaves me alone in the living room to “watch television.” But I have no intention of watching television. I’m finding that goddamn phone.
There’s a leather recliner next to the sofa. In front of it is a brown ottoman. I bend down beside it, feeling the edges. That’s when I realize that the top comes loose. I slide it off and peer inside.
There’s a phone inside, identical to the one I saw Graham talking on this morning. It’s plugged into some sort of charger, but I pull it loose. I’ve never used a phone like this before, but my fingers weirdly know what to do. I press a button and the phone comes to life.
The first thing I see is all the text messages filling the screen. There’s a couple from Lucy, my best friend, but most of them are from an unknown number. I start scrolling.
The ones from Lucy are very strange:
I’m so sorry.
I hope you can forgive me someday. It will never happen again.
I can’t even imagine what she’s talking about. In mymemory, she has never done anything to be sorry for. But for all I know, she could have betrayed me yesterday. That’s when the text messages came.
I put that mystery aside for a moment and start looking at the other text messages. They all come from an unknown number, but I assume it must be Harry. I start reading through them, a lump rising in my throat.
Tess, we need to talk.
I think you’re in danger.
Let me know you got this. I’ll meet you anywhere.
Are you OK?
I don’t know if you’re getting these messages or if he took your phone. But you need to know I love you. Please message me. It’s Harry.
If he did anything to hurt you, I’ll kill him.
I wonder how long he’s been trying to contact me. How many days has he met with me covertly and warned me about this situation? I wish I could remember. It’s so frustrating that I can’t.
I type a message into the phone, praying that he gets it:
I have my phone. Thank you for telling me whereit was. Can we meet?
Three bubbles appear on the screen. He has to say yes.
We shouldn’t. It never helps. And he’s punishing you for it.
Please meet me. Please.
Three more bubbles appear on the screen. I don’t know what he’s writing to me, but it seems to take an eternity. By the time the message appears, I half expect it to fill the entire screen. But instead, it’s one line.
Better we don’t. Trust me.
And then:
Delete these messages.
I almost hurl my phone across the room in frustration. I write him half a dozen more messages, begging him to meet with me. But he never responds again.
Chapter 35
Graham comes home from work at five o’clock. Camila opens the door for him, and he’s carrying a bouquet of a dozen roses and a box of Godiva chocolates.
“Wow,” Camila comments. “Someone is in a romantic mood today.”
