Page 102 of Am I the Only One

“I don’t know if I can do that because there are lots of people here who have access to that email.”

“Can you temporarily change the password? If you do that, by default it’ll kick everyone off until they log back in, which they won’t be able to do.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” she says.

“Stay on the phone with me and let me know when the password has been changed.”

“Okay.” Her whispered voice rattles. “I’m doing it now. Just give me a minute.”

“When I send this file, I need you to email it to William’s wife, Carly, and then delete it from the email and make sure it’s off the computer as well, okay?”

I give her these instructions, not bothering to tell her not to watch it. I know she will, and when she does, she’ll have a million questions.

I need this to happennow.I’ll deal with Olivia later.

Her voice is addled with nerves when she responds, “Okay, it’s done.”

Putting Olivia on speakerphone, I open the video and fast forward to when both Carly and Emma are on the dock. With my screen recorder on, I record my own copy of the video, only the small clip that matters.

“All right, I’m emailing this over right now. When you get it, move fast.”

It’s silent on her end aside from the sound of her clicking the keys on her computer. My heart races as seconds pass, and when I hear her gasp, I know she just watched it.

“Luca?” My name is a frightful whimper.

“Just send it.”

Her breathing becomes erratic, and a moment later, she mutters through the tears I’m sure are spilling down her face, “It’s sent—”

I cut her off before she can say anything else. “Don’t lose your shit, Olivia, and whatever you do, don’t tell a soul about what you just saw.”

“But—”

I hang up. It’s all I can do because how can I attempt to makes sense out of what she just saw when I can’t make sense of it for myself?

I have to keep moving though.

I have to make the call I’ve been dreading. The call that will make all of this real. I’m sick to my stomach as I look up the number, but when I find it, I hesitate before making the call.

More tears come, and then the line connects.

“Metropolitan Police Department.”

“I need to report a missing person.”

Carly

It’s been two weeks of hell.

I can’t sleep because, when I close my eyes, I see her in the water.

I can’t eat because, when I do, my stomach coils in sharp pains.

I can’t look at myself in the mirror because I’m terrified of the murderer staring back at me.

After going to Tripp at The Jefferson, I returned home the following afternoon to find that the house had been broken into. The glass to the backdoor had been shattered and drops of blood trailed through the first floor. There was also a lot of blood outside in the snow. My first instinct was to call Tripp and then the police.

I didn’t do either.

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