Page 49 of Framed

“I never say no to a good road trip, and I know I offered, but couldn’t this have waited until the morning?” Winter asked. “Or you know, at least a time that isn’t ungodly?”

No, because the note said 4:00 A.M. and I don’t want you to know where I’ve been for the past four years. I don’t want you to know who I really am. “Dad usually works pretty late.”

Her eyebrows scrunched. “I thought he worked in tech. Why would he be at City Hall after midnight?”

Shit. I did tell her the truth about that. “He does. Sometimes he has to perform city-wide system updates and it’s better for him to do it after the offices are closed.” It was something my dad had honestly been contracted by the city to do.

However, they were usually only done once a year. Which was in April. But Winter didn’t need to know that.

The second we crossed the borders of my hometown, the atmosphere changed. All at once, the car felt tense and suffocating.

My stomach coiled, practically twisted itself into a knot, as the familiar “Nothing’s Like Sweet Home Tuscaloosa” sign came into view. I gripped the side panel of the door in an iron-clad hold. My fingers dug into the expensive leather.

“Sweet home Tuscaloosa?” Winter joked, clearly picking up on the mood change. “Can’t they be sued for copyright infringement?”

I didn’t laugh. I didn’t say anything, as we coasted through town, slowing down to the obligatory near-crawl speed limit. “Turn right up there,” I said, even though the directions open on Winter’s phone clearly pointed the way.

She followed my directions, cutting another glance at me.

My earlier suspicions about her had seemed so ridiculous back on the highway. But now, meeting her green eyes, I felt a pulse of fear.

What if she really did send me that note? What if she was working for the stalker all along? Was that why she pushed so hard to offer me a ride? What normal person gave their roommate a three-hour ride in the middle of the night?

My pulse picked up, thudding against the base of my throat.

“Should I wait out here, or…?” Winter trailed off as she pulled into the City Hall parking lot and found a spot. It wasn’t hard. There were no other cars here.

I noticed her noticing that. Her eyes narrowed. But she didn’t ask where my father’s car was. She didn’t say a word—just shifted her gaze back to me, calculating and alert.

If it was her, now was about the time she’d reveal herself. Pull a gun, shove me out of the car, do something drastic. But she just sat there, engine idling. We watched each other, eyes wide in the dark.

It’s not her,I told myself. Or maybe I was only hoping it. But when I closed my eyes, I could picture the note, the precise handwriting. It was nothing like Winter’s messy scrawl. Besides, the note threatened to tell Winter who I really was unless I obeyed it—why would she do that? Go to all those lengths, if she already knew my real identity?

“I shouldn’t be long,” I said. Prayed, really. I reached for the doorknob of the car. “Lock the doors while I’m in there though?” I added. “It’s a small town, but, well… can’t be too safe.”

“Sure.” Winter’s eyes never left mine. “If you want me to come with you—”

“It’s fine.” I shook my head. “Dad’s not supposed to let me visit, much less someone else,” I invented quickly. “Like I said, I won’t be long.” With that, I took a deep breath and hopped out of the car, before I could think better of it.

The air smelled the same as it always had. Like dried leaves and cold night air and jasmine flowers somewhere in the distance. It sent a pang through my entire body, bone deep.

Home,my traitorous monkey-brain thought, even as every instinct in my screamed to get out of here as fast as I could.

I forced my legs to move. Forced myself to walk across the parking lot.

We humans always assumed we had more time. Life felt like a never-ending basketball game in the second quarter—still five minutes left on the clock. It never progressed to the next quarter, never ground down to the end. We always believed we’d have enough time to figure out whatever we needed to do.

Sometimes, if we were lucky, that was true. We had enough time.

But for the rest of the population? For the unlucky majority? The clock started counting down again before you even realized it. The buzzer sounded just when you finally thought your life was about to start. All you could do then was step back and appraise the damage.

Time was fickle like that.

And I was running out of it.

I knew that the second my hand reached out to grasp the handle of the slightly ajar gray metal door. I’d come around the far side of City Hall to this entrance because the librarian, Eden, had once let it slip to me years ago that nobody ever came back here. There were no lights, and the security cameras didn’t work. So at least my face wouldn’t be plastered all over local news for breaking and entering tomorrow.

Apparently tonight, the lock on this door didn’t work either.

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