Page 39 of Don’t Scream

“I’m here, Rhys.”

That is all.

I stand there with the phone against my ear after the message ends.

He did not go home.

He saw the tape and he went back because I did not answer him.

I replay the killer’s last call in my head, “Not you. Not yet. Someone else first. Someone who thinks they are safe because they lock the door behind you.”

Shane!

Shane locks the car door behind me. Every late night. He waits until I am inside. He shuts the door and thinks that is safety.

Noah stayed because he wanted someone in a dark room.

Kit stayed late.

Ivy came back when no one answered.

Shane is in the bay because I did not answer him.

“No.”

I am already moving as fast as my aching feet will take me.

“No, no, no, fuck. Shane.”

I call him.

It rings.

Voicemail. The flat work voice I’m used to hearing every day.

“Shane. Get out. Do not wait. Leave the car. Leave now.”

I hang up. Keys. Door. Wet air and get inside the car.

I call again as I throw the car down the drive.

It rings.

Voicemail.

Fuck!

“Shane, listen to me. You are not safe. Do not open the door. Not for anyone. You hear me? Even if you think it’s me. Don’t. Just drive. Please. Call me.”

The mountain is black and wet. I take the first bend too fast. The back of the car slides and I drag it back and do not slow down.

I call him again.

“Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Please.”

Nothing.

Fuck, Shane!