Page 45 of Vow of Vengeance

“Thanks!” Closing the door, I lean against it, exhaling the breath I’ve been holding. I stare around the room. I have thirty minutes to find whatever he’s left me and contact my family.

Time is running out.

I search the rest of the dresser drawers and nightstands. No phone. No paper. Not so much as a postage stamp.

Haze will be home soon. Defeat weighs heavy on my shoulders. Drained by the search, I flop onto the bed. Maybe I will take a “wee nap,” as my Scottish grandma says.

I lie face down on the pillow, snuggling my cheek into the downy fluff. Closing my eyes, I slide my hands under the pillow. My fingertips bump into something hard and cold. Something that wasn’t there this morning when I fluffed this pillow up as my final detail in making this bed.

Silly Ophelia, of course he hid something under the pillow! He told me that when he hinted at me to lie down. I can’t believe I wasted so much time!

Still, victory is mine, and a huge smile beams across my face.

Kneeling on the mattress, I slide the pillow to the right to discover a small gray phone, an old one that folds in half. “Flip phone? Is that what they call them?”

Or, should I say, a burner phone—one you buy for twenty euros at a convenience store that can’t be traced to any established phone number.

I learned the term from a true crime podcast Carter listened to as he drifted off to sleep the last night he spent in my bed. Carter. Can I call him, too? If he even wants to hear from me. What Haze did to him was humiliating. Do I know his number by heart? Not having my contacts from my phone sucks.

I have ten minutes left. I flip the phone open. The number keys stare up at me, begging me to remember our home landline. It takes two tries to dial correctly. My heart beats faster as the first ring comes over the line.

Then, a second ring. “Please pick up.”

My skin goes clammy on the third ring. There’s no time left. They have to pick up! It rings again, and I think of my grandpa, always sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee or playing solitaire with his worn deck of cards. Where is he now?

The call rings out. No one answers. I flip the phone closed. Holding the cool plastic against my chin, I stare at the patches of my quilt.

Dread begins to sink in. Are they not answering because they never made it home? Was Haze lying to me this whole time? Why should I trust him? Though he’s practically a stranger to me, he knows me better than anyone in some ways.

He’s the only person I’ve done those things with. I entirely let go, fully embraced the climax, and lost myself in the euphoria. He’s better acquainted with certain parts of my body than I am.

The phone rings. How do you silence the ringer on this thing? More importantly, how do you answer it? I flip it open. On the front, there’s a small screen with no pictures, only numbers.

Caller ID?

The number displayed on the screen is not my home landline. It’s a number I don’t recognize. What if it’s Haze? Maybe Gian told him he left me a phone, and he’s testing me. Should I answer it and risk getting caught?

Or not answer it and potentially miss a call back from my family?

CHAPTER 16

Ophelia

While decidingbetween answering the phone and attempting to flush it down one of Haze’s fancy toilets that flush with the power of a jet engine, I hear a faint voice calling out my name from my lap. “Ophelia! Ophelia! Is that you?”

I fly the phone up to my ear. “Mom, is that you?”

“Yes. It’s me!” Relief floods through me to hear her voice. “Are you okay? You sound a little shaken up.”

“Do I?” My voice comes out high and squeaky. I take a beat, calm down, and tell my voice to chill. “I didn’t recognize the number.”

“I saw the missed call on the landline and called you back from my cell. I wanted a little privacy from the grandparents,” she laughs. “You know I wouldn’t be able to get a word in if they knew you were on the phone.”

I can picture Grandpa and Grandma reaching for one another, taking the phone out of one another’s hands as they try to get my attention. Then, I picture an angry Haze storming through the bedroom door to find me on the phone. I have to make this quick.

“Mom, I only have a minute?—”

Before I can say another word, her words come out fast and furious. “Baby, I need you to know I did NOT steal that money. I don’t even have a dating profile! But I’m not innocent. I know who did, and I allowed it to happen?—”

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