Page 73 of Call Back

“That’s just speculation,” he said calmly.

“Maybe. But it was definitely a warning. He told me so.” I grabbed his arm, frantic. “You have to protect Momma and Belinda. Can you put them under police protection?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he said softly.

“You’re not even going to try?”

“There are other ways we can fight him. Can you show me the texts? If there’s a number attached, we’ll have a way to track him.”

“They came from a blocked number. Can your people still track it down?”

“Maybe.” His face remained calm and reassuring despite the fact I was becoming more and more agitated. “Who else knows about this?”

“About what? My attack?”

“Yes. That. The reason you ran off. The texts.” He gestured to my leg. “Even the scar. Who else knows?”

“No one,” I said slowly. Momma knew some now, but I wasn’t going to admit that yet. “Why?”

“Because we can keep this to ourselves. We can pretend like you didn’t tell me.”

That was not the reaction I’d expected. Then again, he’d gone to great lengths to hide that file from me, and he hadn’t said one word to me about the connection between my mark and this . . . this serial killer’s calling card. Something wasn’t right here.

“Can I see the texts?” he asked. “Did you really delete the one you received the night of Walter Frey’s murder?”

“Yes. I’ve deleted all of them, but I took screenshots first.”

He was silent for a moment. “Colt’s text . . . that night at the restaurant. He sent it to cover for you.”

I avoided his gaze. “I guess you really are a good detective,” I said with a forced grin.

“So are you two . . . more than friends?”

Before last night, this would have been an easy answer; now it was ten times more complicated. Still, I spoke the truth. “We’re friends.”

He took my hand and caressed the back of it with his thumb. “Can I look at the screenshots?”

“Yeah,” I said, standing and tugging my hand free. “My phone’s next to the bed.”

“I can get it,” he said, but he sounded . . . eager. I suddenly had reservations about showing him. But why? Common sense told me that I should tell him everything now that I’d shared the hardest bits. That I should tell him about my suspicions of Bill James, but common sense also told me something was off. His implication that he’d keep this between us, that he wouldn’t take it to any greater authority, just didn’t sit right.

“No,” I said, already heading to his room. “I’ll get it.”

I hurried to the nightstand and picked up my phone, relieved I’d insisted on it when I saw two texts from Colt and one from Belinda. Colt’s texts had both come soon after midnight, the first acknowledging my text that I was safe. The second was something I definitely didn’t want Brady to see.

Got a good lead on a possible location for Au. Let you know more tomorrow.

Au? What was Au? Then my high school chemistry class came rushing back. Au was the symbol for gold. Good thinking, Colt. But how had he come across a lead so late last night?

The text from Belinda was even more mysterious and had been sent at 5:12.

We need to talk. Text me when you can.

Was she okay?

“Maggie,” Brady called from the other room. “Are you okay?”

“Uh . . . yeah . . .” I considered texting Belinda back, but Brady would probably get suspicious if I took too long. Plus, I didn’t want her reply to come while he was looking at my phone. As I headed back down the hall, I pulled up my photos app and found the hidden folder.

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