- 5.
Typing out what happened took a few minutes, 504’s response was immediate:
“Holy crap! That’s terrifying! I knew that wasn’t 402!”
I typed back: “I’m calling the police. Don’t do anything, especially don’t call 402. Let the police handle it.”
But 504’s next message shocked me:
“I already called them. Don’t go anywhere, and whatever you do, don’t go knocking on 404’s
door like 402 did.
They’ll contact me when they get here. Don’t
leave your apartment. Wait for my message,
8:55
and we’ll talk to the police together.”
974
“Okay,” I replied, finally feeling a sense of relief.
Once the police arrived, everything would be
okay.
But 504’s repeated warnings not to leave my
apartment suddenly made something click. I
finally realized what had been bothering me.
I’d heard the door of 404 close. But when I
looked through the peephole, I saw the dad from 404 outside my door.
- 4.
My legs went weak. I almost fell. But I couldn’t make a sound. God only knew what he’d done to Chris, or what he’d do to me.
Then I remembered: the peephole was one–way.
He couldn’t see me. I breathed a little easier,
but I was still terrified and confused.
<
I peeked again. Gone. Just…gone. How?
Everything was quiet, but something felt
horribly wrong. My phone buzzed. John had
sent more messages:
“Yeah, I don’t think that was Chris. I think it
was David.
But we can’t be sure. What do we do?
Should I call Chris?”
I typed back: “DON’T. Have you?”
I was terrified. If David had Chris’s phone,
calling would give us away. Especially after he’d
just been at my door. He must suspect
something. The only reason he hadn’t tried to
break in was because I’d been quiet.
If he knew… I was right next door. I’d be the
easiest target. I’d just moved in; my door
probably wouldn’t hold against a determined
attacker.
8:56
973
<
John replied:
“No. Why? Wouldn’t that confirm if it’s him?
He’s gotta be awake. I can’t sleep until I know who sent that message.”
Relief. He hadn’t called. I was about to call 911.
But I had to warn John…
