This was wrong. Robin had been very careful to safeguard his mobile number. It had been one of the most beneficial suggestions Stan Barrows had ever offered when Robin had submitted his draft of Without Her with a plea for information at the end that included his phone number. “No,” he had said simply, not elaborating until he was asked. “People, sick people, will play with you. They’ll have some fun. They’ll call you and call you, trying to get a rise out of you. And they won’t stop until they do.” Robin argued at first and then Barrows said something he would always remember. “Don’t be the kind of person, Robin, who thinks everyone’s moral compass is as configured as theirs.” Ever since then he hadn’t put his personal number on anything—no online profiles, no contracts, not even take-out orders.

“I’ve been calling,” the voice said, almost as if he were reminding Robin he was there.

“Who gave you this number?” Robin said, so pointedly that one of the only customers in the shop—an old woman perusing the crime books section—looked around. Robin met her gaze for a split second before turning away. “Who?”

“I’ve been calling.” The young man was fumbling for his words. “I didn’t think you were going to pick up.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have, Robin thought, but instead said, “Tell me who gave you this number or I’m going to hang up.”

Robin felt something in his gut, a hot rage that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he wasn’t sure exactly why, until the speaker said, “She did. She said her name was Samantha.”

Robin gripped the phone so hard the sides cut into his hand and his fingers went white. Sam. Sam had given some guy in a prison his number? When? Why? Wait, NO—this was a troll attempt, pure and simple. This Matthew was playing around with him. Maybe he wasn’t even calling from a prison—maybe that robotic voice was just part of some stupid prank, made to lower his guard.

Robin’s finger moved to the red button, even as he still held the phone to his ear. It hovered there. Something was holding him back. The number—how had Matthew got the number? And then he remembered what his contact at the police had told him. To write everything down, to detail every interaction no matter how small because maybe the police could track down the idiot responsible for the harassment and stir up some trouble. Although the last time he’d talked with his contact was eighteen months ago and now he wasn’t returning Robin’s emails.