Chapter 2 - THE PHOTO THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
The truck hit a pothole so hard my teeth clicked together.
I barely felt it.
“Say that again.”
The stranger kept driving.
“Say it.”
“Your brother may be alive.”
I shoved the gun against his ribs.
His eyes flicked down, then back to the road.
“Careful.”
“Pull over.”
“Maya—”
“Pull over!”
He yanked the wheel into the parking lot of an abandoned grocery store and slammed the brakes.
I jumped out before the truck stopped moving.
He followed slowly, hands open.
“My name is Eli Cross,” he said.
“I don’t care.”
“You should. Noah trusted me.”
“My brother is buried in Green Hill Cemetery.”
“I know.”
“I picked his coffin.”
“I know.”
“I watched them lower it into the ground.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that!”
My voice cracked.
For one ugly second, the parking lot blurred.
Eli looked away.
That made me angrier.
“You don’t get to look guilty. You don’t get to walk into my life, save me, call my dead brother by his name, and act like I’m supposed to follow you.”
“I don’t expect you to follow me.”
“Good.”
“I expect you to survive the next hour.”
He reached into his jacket.
I raised the gun.
“Slow.”
He pulled out a folded photograph and set it on the hood of the truck.
I didn’t want to look.
I looked anyway.
Noah stood outside a gas station at night.
Older.
Thinner.
A beard I had never seen.
But it was him.
I knew the crooked left eyebrow. The small white scar under his chin. The stupid way he hooked one thumb into his pocket.
I snatched up the photo.
“What year?”
“Look at the back.”
A date was printed there.
Two weeks ago.
My knees almost gave out.
“Fake.”
“Maybe.”
“Photos can be faked.”
“Yes.”
“So why believe it?”
“Because of the message.”
He took the phone from me and opened a hidden folder.
Inside were four voice files.
He played the newest.
Static hissed.
Then my brother’s voice filled the cab.
“Eli, if you get this, they found the church archive. Maya will go to the temple Thursday morning. She always goes on Dad’s birthday. They’ll use the south window. Don’t let her stand under it.”
I grabbed the phone.
The recording ended.
I played it again.
And again.
Dad’s birthday.
No one knew I went there every year.
Not even my best friend.
Only Noah had known.
My throat closed.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
I laughed once. It came out broken.
“You have a message from him, but you don’t know where he is?”
“He contacts me through dead drops. One-way channels. Different devices.”
“Why?”
“Because people are trying to kill him.”
“And me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Eli’s eyes moved to my necklace.
A small silver locket rested against my chest.
My mother had given it to me when I was sixteen.
“What?” I asked.
“Did you always wear that?”
I covered it with my hand.
“Don’t.”
“Maya, I need to see it.”
“You need to answer me.”
His phone buzzed.
He checked the screen.
All the blood left his face.
“What now?”
He turned it toward me.
It was a live video feed.
My apartment.
My living room.
My front door hanging open.
Then a figure stepped into view.
My best friend, Tessa, stumbled forward with blood on her lip.
A man behind her pressed a gun to her head.
He looked straight into the camera.
“Bring us the key, Maya.”
I touched my locket.
The man smiled.
“Or your friend dies first.”
May you like
--- If you enjoyed the story, bookmark my site: https://vibe.treeiq.biz New stories are posted daily, so check back for updates.
