Chapter 3: The Police
Luca spun around so fast he almost dropped the note.
"Where are they?"
I scanned the parking lot. Same cars as before. A woman getting out of a minivan with grocery bags. A guy walking a dog. No one paying attention to us. No one holding a camera.
"I don't know."
"Get inside. Now."
He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the building entrance. I didn't argue. My legs felt like they might stop working any second and I needed to move before that happened.
We made it to my apartment and Luca checked every room before letting me sit down. Closet. Bathroom. Under the bed. Like someone might be hiding in the two hundred square feet of space I called home.
"We're calling the cops," he said.
"Luca"
"No. No arguments. This isn't just weird anymore. Someone followed you. Someone is threatening you. Someone is taking pictures of you without permission. That's illegal. That's stalking. We're calling."
He pulled out his phone.
I should have stopped him. Should have explained why this was a bad idea. But I was tired and scared and maybe he was right. Maybe the police would actually help.
"911, what's your emergency?"
Luca put it on speaker.
"I need to report a stalking incident. My friend is being threatened and followed and we have evidence."
"Is anyone in immediate danger right now?"
"No. We're inside her apartment."
"Can you describe what's happening?"
Luca looked at me. I took the phone.
"Someone's been sending me threatening texts," I said. My voice sounded steadier than I felt. "They sent me photos of myself. Photos they took without my knowledge. Tonight they left a note on my car with another photo. They followed me to my apartment building."
"Do you know who's sending these messages?"
"No."
"Have you had any recent conflicts with anyone? An ex-boyfriend? A coworker?"
"No. Nothing like that."
"Can you tell me what the messages said?"
I read her the texts. The warnings to stop asking about Rebecca. The note about final chances.
There was a pause on the other end.
"Who's Rebecca?"
"Rebecca Holt. She died six months ago."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"Rebecca Holt's death was ruled a suicide. Are you saying you believe it wasn't?"
"I'm saying someone doesn't want me looking into it."
"And why are you looking into it?"
Here it was. The question I couldn't answer without sounding insane.
"I found something that made me think the ruling might be wrong."
"What did you find?"
"Evidence."
"What kind of evidence?"
I looked at Luca. He was watching me with an expression that said don't tell them about the voices.
"I'd rather explain in person," I said.
"Alright. An officer will be there within thirty minutes. Stay inside until they arrive. Do not approach anyone or open the door for anyone except the police. Understood?"
"Yes."
"Can I have your address?"
I gave it to her. She confirmed it back and told me to stay on the line but I hung up anyway.
Luca sat down on my couch. "That went better than I thought."
"They think I'm crazy."
"They think you're being stalked. That's different."
"They asked why I was investigating Rebecca. That means they're going to ask more questions. Questions I can't answer."
"You don't have to tell them about the voices. Just tell them you found something suspicious and leave it vague."
"They'll want details."
"So give them details that don't involve hearing dead people. Tell them about the Instagram photo. About Dylan being connected to her even though she didn't swim. About the timing of the threats."
He made it sound so simple. Like lying to cops was easy.
Maybe it was. I'd been lying to everyone else for two years
Officer Martinez showed up in twenty-three minutes. She was younger than I expected. Early thirties maybe. Dark hair pulled back in a tight bun. Sharp eyes that took in my apartment in one sweep.
"Sage Delacroix?"
"Yes."
"I'm Officer Martinez. This is Officer Park." She gestured to her partner, a tall Asian guy with a notebook already out. "You reported a stalking incident?"
"Yes."
"Can I see the messages?"
I handed her my phone. She scrolled through the texts while Park walked around my apartment looking at things without touching them. His eyes lingered on my walls. All those notebook pages. All those voices.
"What's all this?" he asked.
"Notes."
"About what?"
"Different things. Projects. Thoughts."
He didn't look convinced but he didn't push.
Martinez handed my phone back. "Do you still have the note that was left on your car?"
Luca gave it to her. She read it. Studied the photo.
"This was taken tonight?"
"Less than an hour ago," Luca said.
"And you didn't see anyone suspicious in the area?"
"No."
She looked at me. "You said on the phone that you've been looking into Rebecca Holt's death. Why?"
Here we go.
"I found something that made me question the suicide ruling."
"What did you find?"
"Information suggesting she didn't jump."
"What kind of information?"
"I'd rather not say until I know more."
Her expression didn't change but something shifted in her eyes. Skepticism maybe. Or annoyance.
"Miss Delacroix, if you have evidence that Rebecca Holt's death wasn't a suicide, you need to share that with us."
"I don't have hard evidence yet. Just suspicions."
"Based on what?"
I didn't answer.
Park spoke up from across the room. "You know the Holt family, right? Rebecca's parents?"
"No. I never met them."
"Then why are you investigating their daughter's death?"
"Because I think someone got away with murder."
"Based on suspicions you won't share."
"Based on things I'm still trying to verify."
Martinez and Park exchanged a look. Some kind of silent cop communication I couldn't read.
"Have you contacted the Holt family about this?" Martinez asked.
"No."
"Good. Don't. They've been through enough without someone stirring up conspiracy theories."
The words hit harder than they should have. Conspiracy theories. That's what they thought this was.
"I'm not making this up."
"I didn't say you were. But without evidence, all you have is speculation. And speculation can hurt people who are trying to heal."
"Someone threatened me. Someone followed me. That's not speculation."
"You're right. And we're going to investigate that. But that doesn't mean your theory about Rebecca Holt is correct."
Park closed his notebook. "Have you made any other enemies recently? Anyone who might have a reason to harass you?"
"No."
"Any history of mental illness?"
The question landed like a slap.
"Excuse me?"
"It's a standard question. We need to rule out all possibilities."
"You think I'm making this up."
"We think you're scared and that's understandable. But we also need to make sure we're looking at the full picture."
Luca stood up. "She's not making it up. I saw the texts. I saw the note. Someone is threatening her."
"We believe that," Martinez said. "But we need to understand why. And if Miss Delacroix is investigating a closed case and harassing people connected to that case, it might explain the threats."
"I haven't harassed anyone."
"Have you contacted Dylan Rivers?"
My mouth went dry. How did they know about Dylan?
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"I looked him up online. I didn't contact him."
"Did you go to his house?"
I didn't answer fast enough.
Park wrote something in his notebook. "When did you go to his house?"
"Tonight. But I didn't approach him. I just drove by."
"Did he see you?"
"Maybe. I don't know."
Martinez's expression hardened. "Miss Delacroix, Dylan Rivers is a respected member of this community. If you've been stalking him"
"I wasn't stalking him. I was trying to find out if he knew Rebecca."
"He was her swim coach. Of course he knew her."
"She didn't swim."
"She took lessons last year. Three months' worth. Her parents signed her up because she wanted to get over her fear of water."
That stopped me cold.
"She was afraid of water?"
"Yes. Which is why her suicide was particularly tragic. She jumped from a bridge into the river. For someone with a water phobia, that's about the worst way to go."
I didn't kill myself.
Rebecca's voice cut through everything else. Louder than it had been all night.
"That doesn't make sense," I said. "If she was afraid of water why would she choose drowning?"
"Fear and depression don't follow logic."
"Or someone who knew about her phobia used it to make her death look self-inflicted."
Park snapped his notebook shut. "That's a serious accusation."
"I'm not accusing anyone. I'm just saying it's possible."
"Based on nothing."
"Based on the fact that someone is threatening me to stop asking questions."
Martinez stood up. "We're going to look into the harassment. We'll patrol your area tonight and file a report. But Miss Delacroix, I need you to stop investigating Rebecca Holt's death. You're not a detective. You're not law enforcement. And you're putting yourself in danger."
"So you're not going to reopen her case?"
"There's nothing to reopen. The case is closed. The medical examiner ruled it a suicide. Her family accepted that ruling. Unless you have actual evidence, not just theories, there's nothing we can do."
"What if I find evidence?"
"Then bring it to us. But until then, stay away from Dylan Rivers. Stay away from the Holt family. And stop making accusations you can't prove."
They left five minutes later with my phone number and Luca's contact information and promises to increase patrols in my area.
As soon as the door closed Luca turned to me.
"They know about Dylan."
"Yeah."
"How?"
"Someone must have called them. Told them I was at his house."
"Dylan?"
"Probably."
"Which means he knows you're investigating him."
"Which means he's the one sending the threats."
"Or someone working for him."
We both went quiet.
"No."
"So we do this ourselves."
"Sage"
"I need to prove she was murdered. I need to find actual evidence. Something the police can't ignore."
"And how are we supposed to do that?"
"I need to talk to Rebecca's brother. Marcus. He might know something."
"The cops said to stay away from the family."
"They said a lot of things I'm not going to listen to."
Luca rubbed his face with both hands. "This is insane."
"I know."
"We could both get arrested."
"I know."
"Dylan might be dangerous."
"I know."
"And you're still going to do this."
"I don't have a choice."
He looked at me for a long moment. Then he pulled out his phone and opened Facebook.
"What are you doing?"
"Finding Marcus Holt. If we're doing this, we're doing it smart. No more showing up at people's houses unannounced. We message him. Set up a meeting somewhere public. Do this right."
He found Marcus's profile in thirty seconds. Sent him a message before I could stop him.
Hi. My name is Luca. My friend Sage knew your sister Rebecca. We'd like to talk to you about her if you're willing. I know this is strange but we have some questions about what happened. Can we meet somewhere public? Coffee shop maybe?
Send.
"He's not going to respond," I said.
"Maybe not. But it's worth trying."
We waited.
Five minutes passed. Ten.
Then three dots appeared at the bottom of the message thread.
Marcus was typing.
The response came through.
Who's Sage? I don't remember Rebecca mentioning her.
Luca looked at me. I took the phone and typed.
We didn't know each other well. But I found something of hers and I have questions about the night she died.
What did you find?
I'd rather explain in person.
Longer pause this time. Two minutes. Three.
Tomorrow. Java Cup on Main Street. 2pm. Don't be late.
I typed back.
We'll be there.
Read receipt showed he'd seen it.
No response.
Luca took his phone back. "Well. That worked."
"Yeah."
"You know this could be a trap, right? Dylan might have gotten to him. Told him to set us up."
"I know."
"And we're going anyway."
"We're going anyway."
He shook his head. "Your survival instincts are terrible."
"Probably."
"Come on. Let's get your stuff. You're staying at my place tonight and we're not arguing about it."
I was too tired to fight him.
I grabbed clothes and my toothbrush and three of my notebooks. Luca grabbed my laptop and charger.
We were almost out the door when my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I showed Luca the screen.
He read it out loud.
You went to the cops. Big mistake. Now things get worse.
Attached was another photo.
Of Officer Martinez and Officer Park. Standing outside my apartment building.
Leaving.
Taken from somewhere nearby.
Whoever was watching me had been there the whole time.
Even while the police were here.
They weren't afraid of getting caught.
Which meant they were either very stupid or very confident.
I had a feeling it wasn't stupidity.