Page 89 of Lock Every Door

“They’re rich,” Dylan says. “All of them. And rich people don’t give a damn about the hired help. They’re vultures.”

“And what are we?”

He gives the diorama one last disdainful look. “That zebra.”

“It’s insane to—”

On the other side of the hall, one of the schoolgirls lets out a shriek. Not a scared one. A notice-me shriek, designed to get the attention of a nearby group of boys. Still, the sound is so jolting that it takes me a second to regain my composure.

“It’s insane to think an entire building would turn a blind eye to kidnapping or murder.”

“But you agree that something strange is going on, right?” Dylan says. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have listened to me for this long. You wouldn’t even be here in the first place.”

I continue to stare at the diorama, not blinking, until the whole scene becomes wavy, as if life were slowly returning to those creatures behind the glass. Feathers tremble. Beady eyes move. The zebra takes a single breath.

“I’m here because I found Erica’s phone,” I remind him.

“And have you seen what’s on it?” Dylan asks. “Maybe Erica was in contact with whoever caused her disappearance.”

I remove the phone and hold it up for Dylan to see. “It’s locked. Do you have any idea what Erica’s passcode was?”

“We weren’t exactly at the password-sharing stage of our relationship,” Dylan says. “Do you know of another way to unlock it?”

I turn Erica’s phone over in my hand, thinking. Although I don’t know the first thing about hacking into a cell phone, I might know someone who does. Grabbing my own phone, I scroll through the call history until I find the number I’m looking for. I hit the dial button, and a laid-back voice soon answers.

“This is Zeke.”

“Hi, Zeke. This is Jules. Ingrid’s friend.”

“Hey,” Zeke says. “Have you heard from her yet?”

“Not yet. But I’m wondering if you could help me. Do you know someone who can hack into a phone?”

There’s a cautious pause from Zeke, during which all I can hear are the rowdy schoolkids spilling all around us. Finally, Zeke says, “I do. But it will cost you.”

“How much?”

“One thousand. That includes two hundred fifty for me, as a finder’s fee. The rest goes to my associate.”

I go numb. That’s an insane amount of money. Too much for me to afford on my own. Hearing the price almost makes me end the call. My thumb twitches against the screen, ready to hang up on Zeke and not answer if he attempts to call back.

But then I think about Dylan’s so-crazy-it-might-be-true theory that a serial killer is living within the Bartholomew’s walls. I think about how the apartment sitters who suddenly vanished—Megan, Erica, Ingrid—might have been his victims.

We could be next, Dylan and me.

I think Ingrid knew that. It’s why she arranged to talk to Dylan. It’s why she left me the gun and the note. She knew that we could also disappear just as suddenly as the others.

To avoid such a fate, we could leave.

Right now.

Flee in the night, just like I hope Ingrid did but am starting to believe she didn’t.

Or we could pay a thousand dollars to unlock Erica’s phone and possibly get answers about what happened not just to her but to all of them.

“You still there, Jules?” Zeke says.

“Yeah. Still here.”

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