Talk To Me

Chapter Eleven

Present

Oliver stood frozen in the middle of his living room, his gaze fixed on the empty space where Leah had vanished. His mind struggled to process what had just happened, replaying the moment over and over.

The TV hummed softly in the background, flickering light casting shifting shadows on the walls, but he barely registered the noise. Even as the program switched, he remained unmoved, trapped in the weight of his own confusion.

A sudden vibration against the wooden coffee table snapped him out of his daze. The sharp melody of an incoming call filled the silence, drawing his attention to the screen. Mark's name and photo lit up the display.

Oliver hesitated for half a second before stepping forward and swiping the screen. He lifted the phone to his ear. "Yeah," his voice came out rough, gravelly from disuse.

A shuffle of movement crackled through the speaker, followed by the unmistakable, chipper voice of his best friend. "Did you see the news?"

The excitement in Mark's tone only deepened Oliver's confusion. His fingers tightened around the phone. "Yes, I saw," he murmured, his throat dry, each word feeling sluggish.

"That's great, right?" Mark prompted, clearly expecting enthusiasm. When Oliver didn't immediately respond, the silence stretched for an extra beat, filled only by the faint static of the call. "They reopened the case, Oliver."

Oliver cleared his throat with a harsh cough. His mind felt like it was running two different tracks at once—Mark's words barely registering while Leah's panicked voice still echoed in his head.

"What's wrong?" Mark asked, his usual lightheartedness dimming with concern.

Oliver exhaled, rubbing his chin as his thoughts finally clicked into place. An action plan began forming in his mind. "Could you give me a lift, Mark?"

His friend's response was immediate and dubious. "It's late, Oliver, and I'm in bed. Where do you even want to go?"

"To Cassie's place." The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

Mark hesitated. Oliver could hear the shift in his breathing, the subtle hitch of concern creeping in. "Why she—"

Oliver already knew what Mark was going to ask, and there was only one way to get him on board. He had to tell the truth.

"Mark... Leah was here tonight."

A beat of silence. Then—"I'll be there in five minutes."

The line went dead before Oliver could even respond. For a moment, he just stared at the screen, Mark's abrupt exit lingering. Then, wasting no time, he grabbed his black coat and sneakers, slipping them on in one swift motion before heading for the door.

Outside, the darkness felt heavier than usual. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. The first floor of the house remained shrouded in shadows, but a faint glow from the second-story window spilled onto the pathway, just enough to guide his steps.

As he reached the sidewalk, he exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. A warm breeze brushed against his face, but it did nothing to soothe the tension winding tight in his chest.

Oliver knew this was a bad idea. Showing up at Cassie's apartment in the middle of the night wasn't just reckless—it was desperate. But Leah's voice still rattled inside his skull, every word laced with urgency and fear.

"She set us up, Oli." His jaw clenched.

He needed answers.

Headlights cut through the darkness, momentarily blinding him. He squinted, shielding his eyes as Mark's car rolled to a stop in front of him. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke greeted him the second he opened the door.