Talk To Me

Chapter Thirty-Six

March

"Well?" Mark asked as Oliver hung up the phone, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"It's more or less the same," Oliver responded, his body slouching deeper into the armchair, the weight of the past two weeks pressing down on him. "The case is solved, and he said he'll get a restraining order against me if I call again." Oliver let out a heavy sigh, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

"Then stop calling him," Mark said, stretching out his hands, his voice trying to be reasonable.

Oliver's eyes flickered with irritation, but the exhaustion from the constant fight wore him down. The police had refused to reopen Leah's case, insisting there was nothing more they could do. To them, the cause of death was clear—drugs, the overdose that took her life. But to Oliver, that didn't add up. There was no foreign DNR on her body, which, in his mind, was yet another piece of evidence: someone had cleaned her after she died.

"I can't," Oliver muttered, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was thick with helplessness. "Don't you understand?"

Mark scratched the top of his head, his expression cautious. "I do, but maybe she really did just try the drugs. I mean, we did that—we tried a lot of stuff. Just because she's your sister doesn't mean she didn't try it too."

Oliver's jaw clenched. "There's other stuff involved. Things that make me think there's more to the story."

Mark leaned back, looking thoughtful, his brow furrowed. "Maybe she had a boyfriend or something. I know you hate to think of her as an adult, but it's possible. Did you see her yet?"

"No," Oliver muttered, his head hanging low. "No, I haven't."

Mark's voice softened. "So your gift is truly gone?"

Oliver's breath hitched, and for a moment, the familiar emptiness gnawed at him. "I hope not," he said, almost pleading with himself, but there was doubt in his voice. The connection to Leah had been slipping further away, like sand through his fingers.

"What about Cassie? What did she say?" Mark asked, his voice laced with concern.

Oliver exhaled a shaky breath. "I talked to her yesterday. She said Leah changed her mind just before the trip—decided to stay at the apartment. Cassie left for Portland alone."

Mark looked confused. "But she was so excited about going..."

"I know," Oliver muttered, the words tasting bitter. "It makes no sense. She was so excited, and then she just... didn't go. And there's that one or two-day gap between when Cassie left and when they found Leah."

"Did Cassie know anything about the drugs?"

"No." Oliver shook his head, the frustration in his voice palpable. "She said Leah never used them—not that she was aware of, anyway."

The sudden ring of Oliver's phone cut through the tension in the room, the sound piercing through the quiet space. He reached into his front pocket, pulling it out with a sense of unease. The number was unfamiliar. His thumb swiped across the screen, pressing the phone to his ear with a feeling of foreboding.

"Oli—" The voice on the other end was unmistakable, and it sent a cold shiver down his spine.

He ended the call immediately, his hand shaking slightly as he muted the phone. He tossed it onto the coffee table with a clatter, the screen lighting up once more with the same number.

"What was that?" Mark asked, glancing at the phone's screen as it lit up again.

"Sophia," Oliver muttered, the bitterness in his voice evident as he settled back into the chair.