A Descent into Darkness

Moral Support

As I pull into my driveway, I see we didn't even shut the front door before following Liza to the hospital earlier. Or at least, that's what it seems like. I suppose a mad axeman could be waiting for me inside. There would be something symbolic in that I suppose, me getting killed the day after my own first murder.

As I park and exit the car, I wonder how Liza's doing. Mom seemed a bit calmer when asking me to come get her health card so presumably Dr. Adamu told her Liza would be fine. Or she was just putting on a touch face for me. I guess we'll see.

I walk through the front door and take sarcastic comfort in the lack of a mad axeman. Unless they're hiding somewhere else in the house. It would be something of a relief I suppose if they were. At least then all this chaos in my head would be over.

I head up the stairs and into Liza's room. I see her bag immediately. It's sitting on her desk next to her laptop. I walk over and open it, realizing that this is the first time I've ever looked through Liza's handbag. If the circumstances were any less dire, I'd probably be feeling pretty mischievous right now.

Even if I were feeling that way though, there's nothing remarkable in here. Her phone and her wallet. I reach in and grab her wallet. Opening it up, I see her health card. I close the wallet and put it in my pocket.

I'm about to put the bag down when my eyes drift to her phone. I wonder... could the answer to any of my questions be on there? Like what freaked her out so much in the park yesterday? Why she went missing last night? What she did during that time.

I stare at the phone, wondering. Not only about what information is on it, but also the morality of finding out. I've never really violated Liza's privacy before. You know, there's been the playful intrusion over the years on fronts like if she were sneaking out or playing games rather than homework, but nothing that's ever been behind a password or a locked door.

Getting through the PIN on her phone would be no problem, its 6996. But I know that because she trusted me with it. Funny that I'm having more moral qualms over this than the fact that I killed someone last night. Even if that person was going to kill me.

I reach in and pull out the phone. I decide it's okay to at least look. This is Liza's life. It's not like me feeding myself some bullshit justification for killing for any other reason than I like it. This is genuine brotherly love.

I unlock the phone and go to recent messages in text, Whatsapp, IG, Messenger, and find nothing from last night. I try her call history.

My eyes narrow on the most recent calls. An incoming one just minutes before she went missing. It lasted twenty seconds. Hardly a conversation. I've seen her listen to CRA scams for longer, if just to laugh at them. I study the number attached to the call. I don't recognize it. The only hint is its from Toronto. Which narrows it down to about three million people. Should I call it? Listen to who picks up and see if I recognize the voice?

My eyes move down the screen and I see Liza herself made a call to the mysterious number late yesterday afternoon. After we got home from the Lakeshore. That conversation lasted three minutes.

Okay, I'm calling this number... Or should I?

I stand there, pondering what to do. For a long time. Because when I finally am distracted, I realize I've been staring at the phone for 20 minutes.

A knock at the front door is what interrupts my thought process. It's probably Rosa, noticing the car was back and checking in on Liza. I should go down and update her at least. I can worry about the call she received after.

I pocket Liza's phone before heading downstairs and opening the door. It is not Rosa.

"Nate?" the man in the suit says, holding up a badge. "Detective Roger Murdoch. We met about a month ago after that stabbing outside your house."