Page 200 of Sexting the Pakhan

The words don’t make sense at first. Then they do, and I feel sick.

“You what?”

“That day. After everything happened at the library. He came in so often, and I knew you were obsessed, and when I was helping with the desk login later, I saw his details on the library card account. I copied the number.”

I can’t speak for a second. My hand is shaking now.

“You stole his number,” I say.

“Yes.”

“You gave me his number.”

“Yes.”

There’s shame in her voice now, real and ugly. Good. She should feel it.

I stare out at the trees but see the library desk instead. Ruslan’s card. His name in the system. Karina laughing, telling me to text a random number and get some confidence.

Nothing random at all.

“What the fuck, Karina?”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

“I do,” she says quietly. “I’ve known for a while that I messed up.”

I push away from the window and start pacing because if I stay still, I might throw the phone. “How could you not tell me?”

“Because at first it felt like a stupid accident that somehow turned into… whatever it turned into. And then—” She stops.

I stop too. “And then what?”

She says nothing.

That silence is worse than the confession.

“And then what?” I ask again.

Her voice drops. “I sold the same information to someone else.”

Everything in me goes cold.

“I didn’t know who he was, who he really was till you told me. Swear to God, Zoya, I didn’t. It was a few weeks before the attack. A man approached me outside work. He said he was trying to reach Ruslan Karelin for a legal matter and couldn’t get through his office. He offered money just for confirmation that he was at the library, and when he was there.”

I can barely breathe. “You sold it?”

“I’m so sorry, babe. I had no idea what I had signed up for,” she says. “And I swear I totally forgot about that, till now. I’m sorry I didn’t come clean to you before. I didn’t think?—”

“No,” I say. “You didn’t.”

Her voice breaks. “I know.”

My whole body is buzzing now. I grip the phone so hard my fingers hurt. “What was the man’s name?” I ask.

Karina hesitates.