I don’t know if I can trust her, but I can’t imagine her behind this. She’s barely holding on, and this isn’t the work of an addict. It’s meticulous. Organized. I think of Brecken’s bag and shudder.

“I think Brecken wrote these letters. I think he wants to hurt me.”

Kayla hesitates, then shakes her head. “What are you even talking about?”

“There are nine letters in here. Brecken wrote them.” I shake the paper in my hand. “He said things today that were in this letter, and he has already run a person over. I am not staying to see what he’ll do to me.”

A beat passes, a thousand emotions flickering across Kayla’s face. She does not speak.

“I’m going,” I say, swallowing hard. “Come or stay. It’s your choice.”

Her eyes flick to the ditch. We can’t see them well, but Harper and Brecken are chatting. My chest aches at a glimpse of Harper’s dark hair through the windows. I want to warn her. I want to get her away from him.

But then I remember the way she protected him. The way everything he does softens beneath the lens of what he did for her in the airport. I won’t be able to convince her, and I can’t risk losing my chance to run.

I glance at Kayla, and she looks drawn. Serious. But she nods. “I’m with you.”

I grab my bag, leaving most of the letters where they sit. I can’t imagine touching more of them. We head out across the road, stepping through the deepening snow. I’ve got the large envelope still clutched in my left hand and the wind catches it, flapping it back against my sleeve. At the other side of the road, Josh looks up, surprise flickering into concern when he sees me.

Even through the wind, I can hear the now-sickening shink of Brecken’s shovel. Over and over. Like digging a grave, Kayla said.

I shove the envelope into Josh’s hands, crying. He turns it over scanning my name. He frowns. And somehow, his reaction makes the terror hit harder. I’m breathless, my words tumbling over each other on their way out. They choke over unexpected sobs. “It’s Brecken. I think you were right about Brecken.”

“What?” he asks. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t… There were all these letters. And they were to me, but at the wrong address. He’s after me. We have to get away from him.”

“Slow down,” he says, waving Kayla closer. “What are you talking about? What is this?”

“She found a stack of letters,” Kayla says. “And all of our shit, except mine. Looks like she has a stalker, and she’s pretty spooked.”

She sounds like she’s smiling, which means she’s probably still high. Nothing about this is funny.

“We have to go,” I say.