Wrong Number, Right Person
Chapter 3: Voices Carry
Celina
Celina:
Just barely. Groggy. Cranky. Human.
Rowan
Rowan:
Fair.
I owe you a small update.
Celina
Celina:
Oh?
You finally joined a ghost-hunting group?
Rowan
Rowan:
Close.
I opened the vent in my hallway. The one connected to yours.
Rowan
Rowan:
Curiosity. Or recklessness. Take your pick.
Rowan
Rowan:
It wasn’t just dust and lint.
There were scratches on the inside of the shaft wall. Like claw marks.
Celina
Celina:
Are you serious?
Rowan
Rowan:
I wouldn’t joke about that.
There were four lines, vertical. Deep enough to catch my glove.
Rowan
Rowan:
Too precise.
Too deliberate.
Something with hands.
Rowan
Rowan:
That’s not even the worst part.
Celina
Celina:
Stop.
Actually no—don’t stop. What was the worst part?
Rowan
Rowan:
There was a scrap of fabric caught in the vent screen.
It wasn’t old.
It had a stitched name tag.
Celina
Celina:
Oh god.
Whose?
Celina
Celina:
…That’s my last name.
Rowan
Rowan:
I figured.
You ever own something with your full name stitched in?
Celina
Celina:
Not since high school. My mom used to sew my name into sweaters.
Rowan
Rowan:
The fabric looks like it came from a red sweater.
You still have it?
Celina
Celina:
I haven’t seen it in years. Thought I donated it.
You sure it wasn’t a coincidence?
Rowan
Rowan:
No such thing in buildings like this.
Celina
Celina:
I’m not going to sleep tonight.
Rowan
Rowan:
Then don’t. Not yet.
Talk to me instead.
Celina
Celina:
You know…
For someone who claims to be bad at people, you’re pretty good at showing up when it counts.
Rowan
Rowan:
I don’t show up for just anyone.
Just you.
Celina
Celina:
Dangerous words, Vale.
Rowan
Rowan:
Only if I don’t mean them.
And I do.
Comments