"He just watched the police take his associate away. I think he can wait until morning."
Marcus looked toward the dark windows of the diner.
"He said morning may be too late."
The rain slid down the back of my neck.
I should have walked home. My apartment was only nine blocks away. I should have called my brother, then my manager, then the police again.
Instead, I stood beside a black car owned by a man I barely knew, while his driver held open the rear door.
"Am I being kidnapped?" I whispered.
Marcus lowered his head.
"No, ma'am."
That was not the same as saying I was safe.
I looked inside the car. The leather seats were spotless, and a folded gray blanket rested beside a phone charger. Nothing about it looked threatening.
That was what made it worse.
On the back seat lay Adrian's phone.
Its screen lit up with a new message.
I saw only the first line before it went dark.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LET HIM DRINK.
My breath caught.
Marcus noticed my face.
"What did you see?"
I pointed at the phone.
"Who sent that?"
He did not answer.
A second message appeared.
THIS ISN'T OVER. THE WAITRESS KNOWS TOO MUCH.
I stepped back from the open door.
"Tell Adrian I'm not going anywhere with you."
Marcus remained still.
"He expected you to say that."
"Then he knows where I am."
"He knows you are frightened."
"Shouldn't I be?"
He looked past me toward the rain-dark street.
"Yes."
That honest answer made my decision for me.
I reached for my phone.
"I’m calling the police."
Marcus did not stop me. He simply said, "Before you do, ask yourself why the person who tried to poison Mr. Vale already knows your name."
My thumb hovered over the screen.
I had never told Adrian my name until after the police arrived.
Cole had not asked for it.
Mrs. Dalton had not spoken it near the booth.
Yet the message said the waitress knows too much.
I looked again at the black sedan.
Then I looked at the open rear door.
If I walked home, whoever had sent that message might follow me. If I got into the car, I would be placing myself in Adrian Vale's hands.
Neither choice felt safe.
Marcus kept the door open.
"Mr. Vale is waiting," he said.
I tightened my grip on the takeout bag and made the one decision I had been avoiding since I first saw Cole switch the cups.
I stepped toward the car—not because I trusted Adrian Vale, but because I needed to find out who had decided I was worth silencing.
Was I wrong to get into a powerful stranger’s car after seeing a threat meant for me, or was refusing the greater danger?
I stepped into the car—not because I trusted Adrian Vale, but because I needed to know who had decided I was worth silencing.
Marcus closed the door behind me without touching me. The lock clicked, soft and final, and I immediately reached for the handle.
"It opens from the inside," he said from the front seat.
"That is exactly what someone says when it doesn't."
He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Then test it."
I pulled the handle.
The door opened.
For half a second, I considered getting back out. Rain streaked the pavement, the diner windows were dark, and the street beyond the awning looked empty. Then my phone vibrated in my hand.
A new message appeared.
DON'T WALK HOME, HANNAH.
I stared at the screen.
My name had not been in either of the earlier messages. This one was different. It was not a warning meant for Adrian. It was meant for me.
Marcus saw my expression.
"Get in," he said.
I shut the door.
The sedan moved away from the curb before I had fully settled into the seat. Through the rain-streaked window, I watched the Blue Lantern disappear behind us. The neon sign flickered once in the darkness, then went black.
"Where is Adrian?" I asked.
Marcus kept both hands on the wheel. "In the car."
I looked toward the divider between the front and back seats.
"That isn't what I meant."
"The back seat is separated from the front."
"You're avoiding the question."
"Mr. Vale is at the hospital."
My stomach tightened. "What hospital?"
"St. Matthew's."
"Why?"
"Because the officers took the vial for testing. Mr. Vale wanted to know what was in it before anyone decided it was harmless."
I looked down at the message again. My thumb hovered over my brother's name.
"I need to call Ethan."
Marcus's eyes flicked toward the mirror. "Call him."
The permission sounded too easy.
I pressed Ethan's name. It rang twice before going to voicemail.
"Hey, it's me. Call me when you get this. I'm—"
A sharp tone cut through the car.
My call had disconnected.
I tried again.
This time, the phone displayed No Service.
I held it up toward the window. One bar appeared, then vanished.
Marcus noticed. "We're passing under the bridge."
"I had service a second ago."
"The storm is affecting the signal."
"Of course it is."
He did not respond.
A moment later, my phone vibrated again.
I expected another text.
Instead, a photograph appeared.
It showed Ethan standing outside the community college library, his backpack hanging from one shoulder. The image had been taken from across the street. His face was turned toward the camera, unaware that anyone was watching him.
The timestamp in the corner read 8:42 p.m.
I checked the time on my phone.
8:47.
My breath left my body.
"Stop the car."
Marcus said nothing.
"Stop the car!"
He eased off the gas, but the sedan continued forward.
"Who took this?" I demanded.
"I don't know."
"Then why are you still driving?"
"Because stopping in the middle of an empty road will not help your brother."
I sent Ethan a message with shaking fingers.
CALL ME NOW. DO NOT LEAVE THE LIBRARY. FIND CAMPUS SECURITY.
The message remained stuck beneath a spinning circle.
Marcus turned onto a wider avenue lined with closed storefronts and wet parking lots. Headlights appeared behind us, too bright and too close. A gray SUV followed when we changed lanes.
I looked over my shoulder.
The SUV changed lanes too.
"Are we being followed?"
Marcus checked the mirror. His face remained composed, but his jaw tightened.
"Possibly."
"Possibly?"
"Don't panic."
"I am sitting in a stranger's car while someone photographs my brother. Panic is already here."
The gray SUV stayed behind us through two traffic lights. At the third, Marcus turned sharply into a gas station. He drove around the building and stopped beside a row of parked delivery vans.
The SUV continued down the avenue.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Marcus reached beneath the dashboard and pressed a button. The interior lights went dark, and the locks clicked again.
"What was that?" I asked.
"An alert."
"To Adrian?"
"To his security team."
I laughed once, without humor. "You have a security team?"
"Mr. Vale does."
"That is not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
My phone vibrated again.
This time, the message came from Ethan's number.
I'M WITH YOU. DON'T TRUST THE DRIVER.
I stared at the words until they blurred.
"That isn't my brother," I whispered.
Marcus turned around in his seat. "What?"
"Ethan wouldn't write that. He knows your name now."
Another message arrived before I could show him.
HE KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED AT THE DINER.
Marcus took out his own phone. "Give me yours."
"No."
"Your brother's phone may be compromised."
"So may yours."
His expression sharpened. "Hannah, if someone has access to your brother's phone, you need to assume they can see everything on yours too."
I pulled the device against my chest.
He was right, and I hated him for saying it.
The gray SUV reappeared at the far end of the gas station. It rolled slowly past the entrance, then disappeared behind the convenience store.
Marcus started the car.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked.
"St. Matthew's."
"Not your boss's house?"
"No."
"Why would Adrian be at a hospital instead of speaking to the police?"
"Because he didn't trust the first test."
"The police took the vial."
"Exactly."
We pulled back onto the avenue. I kept watching the side mirrors while Marcus drove. The storm had turned the city into a blur of reflections, red brake lights, and black windows.
After three minutes, he said, "Mr. Vale was exposed."
"To the poison?"
"Possibly."
"Then why didn't he collapse at the diner?"
"Because you stopped him before he drank the coffee."
I remembered the cup inches from Adrian's mouth. The way he had looked at me after I knocked it from his hand. The calmness in his voice when everyone else had begun shouting.
"Then how was he exposed?"
Marcus hesitated.
That pause made the fear in my chest grow colder.
"How?"
"He touched the outside of the cup."
"That can't poison someone."
"Not usually."
"What does that mean?"
"It means the person who prepared it may have expected the cup to break."
I turned toward him. "Expected it to break?"
"Or expected someone to spill it. The substance was found on the rim and beneath the handle. The lab technician detected traces on the napkin Adrian used to move it."
I looked at my hands.
I had touched the coffee pot. I had touched the booth. I had touched the cup when I tried to push it away from him.
"Am I exposed?"
Marcus did not answer immediately.
"Am I exposed?" I repeated.
"Your skin was not broken."
"That was not my question."
"We're going to the hospital."
The sedan accelerated.
My wrist throbbed beneath my sleeve where Cole had grabbed me. I remembered the red mark, the pressure of his fingers, the way he had touched the inside of his coat before the switch.
"What was in the vial?"
"The preliminary report called it a fast-acting neurotoxin."
The words sounded unreal.
"You're saying Cole tried to kill Adrian."
"That is what it looks like."
"Then why isn't he in jail?"
"Because Cole left the diner with the police."
"That makes no sense."
"It will when you understand who Cole Mercer is."
"I understand that he tried to poison your boss."
"Did he?"
I stared at the back of his head.
"You were there."
"I was not."
"You said you drove for Adrian."
"I arrived after the police did."
"Then how do you know what happened?"
"Mr. Vale told me."
"From the hospital?"
"Before he went in."
I sat back slowly.
The timeline had begun to feel wrong.
Adrian had been at the diner when the police arrived. He had stood beside booth seven. He had answered every question. He had watched Cole being taken outside.
Yet Marcus was telling me Adrian had already known enough to send him after me.
"Did Adrian send you to the diner before the police came?"
"No."
"Did he send you after?"
"Yes."
"How did he know where I lived?"
"I don't know."
"He knew my name before I told him."
Marcus's eyes met mine in the mirror.
That was the first time I saw genuine alarm on his face.
"What do you mean?"
"The text used my name. The person who sent it knew I was the waitress. Adrian knew my name because I told him in front of the officers. But the first message came before that."
Marcus took one hand from the wheel and made a call.
"Who are you calling?"
"Mr. Vale."
The call connected, but there was no answer.
Marcus tried again.
This time, the line went straight to voicemail.
He ended the call.
"His phone is on the back seat," I said.
"I know."
"Then who has it?"
"I don't know."
The phone lay beside me on the leather seat. Its screen was dark, but a faint green light blinked along the edge.