Page 31 of Texting Dr. Stalker

“Wait, I think—”

“What did the message say? Tell me word for word. They’ll want to know.”

“I really think we might be overreacting.”

“Just tell me. I’m going to write it down.”

“Fine.” Activating the strange phone again, I reread the message. “It says, you don’t know me, but I’m here. If you need a faceless friend, you have one.”

“It definitely sounds threat-like,” she gasped. “Like…I’m watching you and I’m going to kill you?”

“How on earth did you get to that conclusion?”

“Friend could be code for murder. Like he’s watching you to make sure you don’t testify against him or something.”

God,testify?

I hadn’t even thought about that.

Sitting in court, reliving what he did.Seeinghim.

My entire body broke into ice and shivers.

Before I could get myself together, Lily rushed, “Get off the phone and call the cops. You should be the one to tell them about this. I’m coming round right now. I’ll be there by—”

“No, don’t.” With a trembling hand, I did my best to fight back the clawing panic attack brewing in the centre of my chest. I’d never had one before, but the creeping breathlessness, the tightness…it was either that or a heart attack. Breathing carefully through my nose, my scratchy voice almost stopped working. “D-Didn’t you say you had that promising couple having a second viewing today?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then go there. Don’t come here. I’m fine. Truly.”

I’m not strong enough to hide from you right now.

Swallowing hard, I added with a forced laugh, “I’m busy painting, so stay away, do you hear me?”

“But—”

“No buts. I’ll call you later.” I hung up before she could argue.

My pulse skittered as I traded cell phones and ran my fingers over the unfamiliar one. The message glowed on the screen, demanding an answer.

It was either Milton tormenting me, a complete coincidence, or…someone was playing a very cruel and unnecessary joke.

All my panic switched into rage.

I grew angry.

I was probably leaping to ridiculous conclusions, but I found myself typing:

Who is this? I found this phone and would like to return it to its rightful owner.

I could just imagine the rolled eyes of the police investigating my future murder.‘Ah, yes, Sailor Rose? She replied to a message from a hitman hired to kill her, and we found her in teeny tiny pieces stuffed in a suitcase the following week.’

Swooping to my feet, I fisted the phone and trembled with the urge to throw it away.

This was a mistake.

Fumbling for the side button, I went to turn it off, but it chimed with a new message.

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