I can’t wait to see what your insides look like

I try to ignore them, but each one reminds me of my mom lying there, helpless.

Lorraine calls and says the person is using a number-changing app, so it’s not as easy to trace it and break down their door. She says the police are doing all they can to help.

I don’t believe her but thank her anyway.

I feel sick whenever I get a new notification. My inbox is a twisted list of reminders of how much I’ve lost.

Danny messages me with this week’s viewing figures.

A 159,000 increase. Good job.

Whoever’s sending the texts, they’re helping.

Back at school, Hanna says, “It’s Ross. It has to be.”

I’ve thought a lot about that, but it can’t be him. I saw him. I heard him. He wants justice like I do. There’s no reason for Ross to mess with me.

“He doesn’t have my phone number. I gave him the number to this.”

I pull out my dad’s phone, and Emily grabs it and says, “This is old,” stretching the “old” out far longer than she needs to.

Hanna frowns. “I told you to stop doing that.”

She means keeping a phone in my bra, because her mom knows someone who got breast cancer and believes whatever is in a smartphone is bad for your boobs. But Dad’s phone is ancient.

Emily hands it back to me and says, “Could he get it?”

“What?”

“The number…to your real phone. Could this Ross guy get it?”

“He wants to help,” I say. “He has nothing to do with this.”

I know I should be more suspicious of Ross. But if I admit that, I’m scared of what it meant for our first meeting. I connected with the family of another victim. That’s what I need to be true.

“You should have protection,” Hanna says. “They should have someone outside your house.”

“It’s just some loner trying to scare you,” Emily says. “Change your number and don’t tell anyone except us.”

It’s the most obvious solution, and I have thought about it, but I don’t want to. Every message is another sign that this is working, that my face on a screen is doing something.

If I didn’t know better, I would believe the nagging feeling that maybe it’s the real Magpie Man contacting me because he thinks he can get away with it. But I do know better.

Know your enemy. That’s rule number one if you want to beat them. This enemy wouldn’t text. He wouldn’t risk it. But my audience doesn’t need to know that.

I don’t have time to catch an impostor. I need to put all my efforts into the real thing.

Chapter 37

“Hi,” Ross says. “Are you okay?”