Jack was awake half the night thinking about Shada Mays’ text message.
Last week’s tip from Jamal’s mother had been slightly off the mark. The police didn’t have any e-mails. It was a text-message exchange-just one-between Shada and someone using a pirated cell phone (owner unknown). Shada’s cell phone had disappeared along with her, so it had taken a subpoena from law enforcement to turn up the day-old text message on the carrier’s server. There were also records of phone calls to and from the same pirated cell, but there was no way of knowing what was said in those conversations. The single text was chilling enough, starting with a question from the man suspected of being McKenna’s killer:
“Are you afraid?”
“Not at all.”
“Maybe you should be.”
“No way. Never. I will see you tomorrow.”
Jack probably would have guessed it, but the date on the message confirmed as much: “Tomorrow” was the day Shada had gone missing.
Still, Jack wasn’t sure how to read it. Was she being defiant? No way, you killed my daughter, but you will never intimidate me, you son of a bitch. Was she playing the role of the “good cop”? Don’t worry, accidents happen, I’ll see you tomorrow and you can tell me your side of the story. They were merely printed words-no voice inflection, no context, no way to know for sure. The first line-Are you afraid?-was intriguing, and the addition of just three more words-of The Dark-would have all but confirmed in Jack’s mind that McKenna, Shada, Jamal, and Ethan Chang were all killed by the same man. As it was, that was still a distinct possibility.
Or someone was trying very hard to make it look that way.
The telephone rang on his nightstand, and Jack shot bolt upright in bed. His room was dark, but he hadn’t really been sleeping. A call at 3:40 A.M. was never a good thing, and his first thought was of his grandfather in the nursing home.
“Hello?” he said.
There was no answer, but Jack sensed that someone was on the line.
“Who is this?” said Jack.
“Is this Mr. Swyteck?” The voice was beyond tentative. It sounded like a teenage girl-a frightened teenage girl.
“Yes,” said Jack. “Who’s calling?”
“You don’t know me, but… you were the lawyer for Jamal, right?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“I-I can’t tell you that.”
Her English was good, but she spoke with an accent. German, maybe. “Where are you calling from?”
“I can’t really tell you that, either.”
Jack heard the sounds of a city over the line-the echo of a car horn, the grumble of a bus or a diesel truck. She was obviously calling from outdoors, perhaps on a busy street corner, either a cell or a pay phone. Wherever she was, the business day had already begun; it definitely wasn’t 3:40 A.M.
“Did you know Jamal?” asked Jack.
“Uhm, not really. I spoke to him. Once.”
“When?”
“A couple of days ago,” she said, her voice quaking. “He gave me your number and begged me to call you. I told him he’d never hear from me again if he told you or anybody else we talked but… is it true that he’s dead?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God,” she said.
Jack jumped out of bed and started pacing. He wasn’t sure where to go with this, but it sounded important. “What did you and Jamal talk about?”
“Was he… killed?” she asked.
“It looks that way,” said Jack.
“Oh my God,” she said, and this time Jack thought she might hyperventilate.
“Calm down, okay?” said Jack. “If you know something about this, I can help. You just have to tell me what you know.”
A siren blasted in the background. She was definitely in a city.
“It’s like I told Jamal,” she said. “I think… I know who killed his girlfriend.”
Jack stopped pacing, frozen in the darkness of his bedroom. “McKenna Mays? You know who killed McKenna?”
“I think so.”
“Who was it?”
She didn’t answer.
“I need you tell me who did it,” said Jack.
“I’m afraid!”
Jack didn’t want to push too hard and lose her. “It’s okay. Have you gone to the police?”
“Yeah, right,” she said, and Jack could hear the struggle in her voice. “I can’t do that. No way.”
“Why not?”
Jack heard more of the sounds of the city, but she was silent.
“Why can’t you go to the police?” Jack asked.
“Because he would-”
She stopped herself. There were more urban sounds in the background, and Jack thought he heard her breathing. No, she was crying.
“Are you all right?” Jack asked.
The crying continued, stronger but more distant, as if she had taken the phone away from her face.
“Don’t hang up,” said Jack. “I need to know: Are you all right?”
The crying stopped, and Jack heard her take a deep breath.
“No,” she said, sobbing, “I’m not.”
Before Jack could respond, the caller was gone.