“I didn’t want to go into the alley. I had no choice. People are blaming me for Lorna’s death, and I thought…I don’t know…I thought if I made myself the target, it would force his hand. If I showed I wasn’t scared of him, maybe he would come for me. And then we could catch him.”

Dad starts pacing, then crouches next to me and says, “It’s my job to keep you safe…and I’m failing.”

This is it. This is my dad belatedly putting his foot down.

But before he can, I say, “I’m the one failing. We can do this differently. We can do it safely.”

Then I tell him what Ross and I have been planning.

He listens without interrupting, nodding in all the right places, and when I’m done, he says, “Okay.” Then, “Why did you give that woman my phone number?”

“I didn’t think you used it anymore. You never answered it when it was on.”

I guess that’s the end of the conversation, but as I leave, he says, “Don’t delete the messages.”

It’s a weird thing to say, but his voice sounds different, kinder, like it was when he used to whisper me to sleep, talking me out of whatever nightmare I’d had before I realized they weren’t nightmares at all.

I go upstairs, and when I check the phone, there are more missed calls and messages from Ross, and I make a promise to keep it with me from now on. I quickly read through them, then listen to a voicemail he left last night.

“What’s the point of a secret phone if you never answer it?” he says. “Anyway, I have some news. Call me when you can.”

I should phone him right away, but I keep thinking about what Dad said, so I click on the old texts, and what I find makes my heart stop.

Can you get some chopped tomatoes on the way home? xxx

I love you, gorgeous xxx

Don’t forget it’s Jess’s play on Wednesday.

They are messages from Mom. I can’t see Dad’s replies.

Before smartphones, you couldn’t read your texts like it was the story of your life. Everything was a moment in time, and there was only enough space to save the best. Except Dad didn’t know he should be saving them. That one day, too soon, the texts would stop.

I wonder how many times he read them before he stopped charging the phone.

I try to imagine Mom speaking the words out loud. Her voice, like everything else, has faded over time. But it feels like I’ve found a secret. It feels like she has come back to me, just when I need her most.