11
Sailor
Random Gifts
I BARELY WAITED TILL DAWN TO CLIMB back up the ladder and continue painting Nana’s—now my—bedroom.
The entire house smelt like paint, and I wore almost as much as I’d put on the walls. The moment the homeware store delivered my online order, I’d shifted all the furniture out into my old bedroom, packed away Nana’s things for Goodwill, and covered the gold and silver swirly carpet with old sheets. Once I’d finished painting upstairs, I’d decide on what flooring to install, but for now, I focused on the bits I could do on my own.
I’d watched a few YouTube videos on how to prep the walls and applied plaster to the holes where old paintings and pictures once hung, sanded down areas that needed smoothing, and washed high-traffic areas with sugar soap. I’d applied the primer yesterday and now needed sunglasses indoors because the walls were so blindingly white.
Today, I planned on putting the first layer of the topcoat on. Thanks to a Pinterest post, I’d chosen a soft dove grey for the walls. I’d even managed to track down the wallpaper they’d used of a misty lake with white herons standing on long legs in a steamy new day.
The entire vibe was calm and tranquil, and I couldn’t wait to get the feature wall done so I could spray-paint Nana’s rattan bed frame a glossy silver to complement the cool tones, then scroll online for a bedspread to match.
By the time lunchtime rolled around and my hunger made itself known, I padded downstairs in my old high school sneakers that were now splattered with grey and headed outside to grab a carrot, cucumber, and salad leaves. The sound of a van accelerating had me changing direction and going through the hobbit gate to the street.
Thanks to my new project, I’d been able to ignore my itchy discomfort and memories of Milton for most of the day. However, I had a moment in the back garden last night while holding a photo of Nana and Pops. It’d been taken on their fiftieth wedding anniversary when they renewed their vows at a local garden centre, and Mary—Alexander’s grandmother and my nana’s best friend—had arranged for blossoms to be blown in a never-ending dance of pink and white as Pops sashayed Nana in a dance.
The sheer romance and affection suffocated me in happiness and sadness, and I’d stumbled outside, needing some fresh air.
If Lily had turned up while I cried my heart out at the thought of never getting to experience a lifelong partnership and marriage like they had, I would’ve choked back my tears and pretended I was fine. I would’ve tossed the picture I hugged into the closest veggie patch and hidden just how much Milton had broken me.
I would never be able to explain why I felt so sad.
Nothing had changed.
Not really.
Sure, I had a few bruises, but I was still alive. No one had taken my home away or left me destitute. I was still financially stable and young. Still had time to find ‘the one’. Still had my health and happiness.
Yet in that moment of grief when I gave in to that sticky darkness inside me, I sobbed into the grass and was grateful no one saw me.
You weren’t going to think about anything other than the renovation, remember?
The sooner I could get back to work, the better.
Scanning the street for neighbours I didn’t want to talk to, I headed to my gingerbread letterbox to check today’s mail. At the end of my drive, I glanced at Alexander’s home. His garage door was down; the house looked hushed. He was either sleeping from a long shift or wasn’t home.
I didn’t care to analyse why a coil of disappointment worked through me, followed by the tightest knot of anxiety.
Urgency to get back inside where no one could see my cracks had me flipping open my letterbox, grabbing the two letters inside, and hightailing back to safety.
Stepping into the kitchen, I tossed the letters onto the kitchen bench and scowled as something heavy clunked instead.
“What the…?” Plucking the top envelope off the bench, I sucked in a breath at the cell phone tucked beneath it. Sleek and small, it looked utterly lost and out of place.
Did someone mistakenly put it in my mail? Was someone looking for it? Freaking out to have lost all their photos and data?
Picking it up, I tapped the screen.
It came to life without requiring a password or keycode. A message bubble waited to be read. A flicker of hesitation shot through me. I didn’t want to invade someone’s privacy, but if it meant I could find the owner of the phone, then…it wouldn’t be so bad to read.
Tapping on the bubble, I waited for it to load, then sat heavily in the dining room chair.
You don’t know me, but I’m here. If you need a faceless friend, you have one.
I almost dropped it.
Why did that feel so personal? Why did it feel as if the message was addressed to me?
I rolled my eyes.
Lily.
My anxiety popped into affection.
She had a habit of buying me random things. Books she’d read and thought I’d enjoy. Kitchen appliances that changed her life. And I did the same to her. I’d sent her headphones last month when she complained of her old ones hurting her ears and ordered a huge basket full of all her favourite foods when she earned a big commission.
It wasn’t unusual for us to drop things into each other’s boxes or backyards, little keepsakes that said we were thinking of each other.
Smiling, I fondled the phone. Not the most logical present she’d ever given me but also not the strangest. A tad odd that she hadn’t left it in its packaging, but maybe she figured it wouldn’t have fit.
Slipping my own phone from my back jeans pocket, I called Lily on speed dial.
She answered on the second ring. “Hey, Sails. What’s up? You all good? Are you safe? Do you need me to come over? Tell me!”
Ignoring her not-so-subtle-freak-out, I asked in a croaky-healing whisper, “Did you sneakily put a phone into my letterbox this morning?”
“Huh?”
“Did you give me a phone?” I swallowed hard on the residue of pain.
Her tone switched from panicked to suspicious. “No, why?”
“I just found one in my mail and there’s a message that’s a bit odd.”
“Odd as in it’s Milton trying to scare you? Can prisoners find a way to deliver stuff? What name is on the receipt? Oh God, what if it’s a bomb? Call the police, Sails. Report it!”
My heart thudded.
Maybe she’s right.
Trying to stay calm, I forced my whisper to get as loud as my healing would allow. “It’s not a bomb, Lils, and I doubt it’s from him.”
Swallowing hard, I shoved aside the other envelope, looking for any sign of a receipt or clue as to who dropped the phone off. “There’s no receipt. It’s literally just a phone all by itself. It didn’t even come with a charger.” My voice burned and cracked. Wow, it still hurt to talk this much. “Perhaps I’m overthinking it, and the message isn’t for me? It could just have been found in the gutter and shoved in my letterbox for safe keeping?”
The tension I hadn’t realised was building slowly disappeared. “That’s it. It’s fine. I guess someone found it and put it into the closest place they could.” I rubbed my throat, trying to ease the lingering swelling.
“Are you sure? I dunno, Sails. I have a bad feeling about this. What if it is Milton? He might be trying to scare you. Do you think he has friends who would come and finish what he started? Maybe he’s hired a hit on you and—”
“This isn’t a movie, Lily. He was just a lazy, jealous jerk who thought violence made him the bigger person. That’s all.”
“I still think you should call the police. Tell you what, I’ll do it. I’ll call them right now. What was the name of the officer overseeing your case again?”
“Andrew something or other.”
“Helpful.” A rustling sounded in the background. “Found it. I took a photo of his business card. I’ll call them and—”
“Wait, I think—”
“What did the message say? Tell me word for word. They’ll want to know.”
“I really think we might be overreacting.”
“Just tell me. I’m going to write it down.”
“Fine.” Activating the strange phone again, I reread the message. “It says, you don’t know me, but I’m here. If you need a faceless friend, you have one.”
“It definitely sounds threat-like,” she gasped. “Like…I’m watching you and I’m going to kill you?”
“How on earth did you get to that conclusion?”
“Friend could be code for murder. Like he’s watching you to make sure you don’t testify against him or something.”
God, testify?
I hadn’t even thought about that.
Sitting in court, reliving what he did. Seeing him.
My entire body broke into ice and shivers.
Before I could get myself together, Lily rushed, “Get off the phone and call the cops. You should be the one to tell them about this. I’m coming round right now. I’ll be there by—”
“No, don’t.” With a trembling hand, I did my best to fight back the clawing panic attack brewing in the centre of my chest. I’d never had one before, but the creeping breathlessness, the tightness…it was either that or a heart attack. Breathing carefully through my nose, my scratchy voice almost stopped working. “D-Didn’t you say you had that promising couple having a second viewing today?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then go there. Don’t come here. I’m fine. Truly.”
I’m not strong enough to hide from you right now .
Swallowing hard, I added with a forced laugh, “I’m busy painting, so stay away, do you hear me?”
“But—”
“No buts. I’ll call you later.” I hung up before she could argue.
My pulse skittered as I traded cell phones and ran my fingers over the unfamiliar one. The message glowed on the screen, demanding an answer.
It was either Milton tormenting me, a complete coincidence, or…someone was playing a very cruel and unnecessary joke.
All my panic switched into rage.
I grew angry.
I was probably leaping to ridiculous conclusions, but I found myself typing:
Who is this? I found this phone and would like to return it to its rightful owner.
I could just imagine the rolled eyes of the police investigating my future murder. ‘Ah, yes, Sailor Rose? She replied to a message from a hitman hired to kill her, and we found her in teeny tiny pieces stuffed in a suitcase the following week.’
Swooping to my feet, I fisted the phone and trembled with the urge to throw it away.
This was a mistake.
Fumbling for the side button, I went to turn it off, but it chimed with a new message.
Stupid, idiotic curiosity had me clicking on it even while common sense screamed not to be a statistic.
The message was to you. It’s not a mistake. You’re the rightful owner.
My pulse skyrocketed.
My fingers flew over the keys.
Who are you and why did you give me a phone?
The stranger replied: So you have someone to talk to.
My heart rate grew faster and faster. Why would I need someone to talk to?
A reply appeared instantly. Just a feeling I have.
Who the hell is this? Milton? Is that you?
The phone vibrated in my hand.
Names don’t matter. But if you need to call me something, X will do.
My entire body turned to Jell-O.
X? That’s not at all terrifying or weird . Who the hell are you? Is Milton putting you up to this? What do you want?
Tears burned my eyes as I waited for a reply.
The phone chirped . Just like names don’t matter, it doesn’t matter who I am. All you need to know is, I will never hurt you. I will never threaten you or put you in danger. And no, this isn’t Milton, and no, he didn’t put me up to this. (Whoever he is.)
Oh my God, I was going to be sick. This was a prank. A sick, evil prank by a sick, evil man who thought he could torment me.
I shivered as I replied: I don’t believe you.
X: I don’t know what I can offer to give you peace of mind. Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it.
Me: Tell me why you put this phone in my mailbox. How do you know me? What else do you know? Why are you doing this?
The soft chime of a new message had me holding my breath.
X: This isn’t going like I planned. I didn’t want to be so frank, but I think…I think that might be best. Ready?
I could barely type, I shuddered so much.
Me: Tell me.
X: I saw you that night. Being hurt.
The tears burning my eyes finally broke the seal and tumbled down my cheeks. I sat down heavily. How did you see? Why do you even care?
I grabbed a tissue from the crocheted holder in the centre of the table and blew my nose. By the time I’d soaked up my tears, the phone buzzed.
X: I heard the sirens and saw you being loaded into the ambulance. I felt sorry for you. And I care because I don’t like seeing good people in pain.
Me: You don’t even know me.
X: You’re right. I don’t. And that’s what makes me perfect.
I sniffed back fresh tears. Perfect for what?
X: To talk to.
Me: Why would I talk to a creep who left a phone in my letterbox all because he/she saw me being beaten?
X: Because that creep has promised to never hurt you. And if he can do anything to help you…then he’ll do it.
Me: So you’re admitting you’re a guy?
X: Damn, guess I just did.
Me: And you live around my neighbourhood?
X: I didn’t say that.
Me: How did you see me being loaded into the ambulance then?
X: I was just passing through.
Me: Right. Sure. Don’t believe you.
My brain throbbed with questions. Huddling on the chair, I fired another message off before he could reply. Is this Jim?
I didn’t truly think X was eighty-three-year-old James McNab, but it might trip him up. If he knew Jim, then I might be able to narrow down who it was. I wouldn’t put something like this past the residents on this street. A helpful Samaritan doing the right thing in a very shady way.
X: I have no idea who Jim is.
Me: Sure, you don’t.
X: You’re ruining this, by the way.
Me: I’m ruining it? Ruining what exactly? Your attempt at some creepy god-complex superhero attempt at….I don’t even know what to call this.
X: Call it whatever you want. You can call me your friend too if you’d like.
Me: I have a friend . I don’t need another.
X: Okay then, consider me your little secret.
Me: My little secret?! Do you say that to all the girls you plan on murdering?
X: Murdering? What? I literally just said I would never hurt you.
Me: Yet you’re hiding behind a screen and asking me to keep you a secret.
X: If no one knows about me, then no one will know what we talk about.
And that was my limit.
Tossing the phone down, I reached for mine and called the police.