Chapter Twenty-Three Hailey
I’m curled up on my couch with Chewy, halfway through a cheesy rom-com movie and enjoying a quiet evening alone, when my phone rings.
Even though I’m not sure how to feel about him right now, Cole’s name on the screen makes my stomach flutter with that same excited feeling it always does. I don’t know if I hate it or love it.
“Hi,” I answer, trying to keep my voice normal.
“Hailey, listen to me carefully.” Cole’s voice is frantic, making me sit up straighter. “Lars Winters is in your neighborhood, and he’s heading toward your building.”
The TV remote falls from my hands. “What? Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. I’m about two blocks away. You need to make sure your doors are locked and stay away from the windows. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
My heart pounds against my ribs as I scramble off the couch, Chewy tumbling to the floor in surprise. “Oh my God. Should I call the police?”
“No,” Cole cries out, but then somewhat recovers. “I’ll get to you faster than they will. Just wait for me. Keep the door locked until I get there.”
I’m moving toward my front door, confirming the deadbolt is locked.
“How did you—” I start to ask, then stop as realization hits me. “Wait. How do you know where Lars Winters is?”
The silence on the other end of the line stretches out uncomfortably.
“Cole? How do you know where he is? How do you even know what he looks like?”
“You told me,” he says, but it’s not convincing. “When you were upset about what happened at the hospital.”
“I never told you anything other than his name, and the only reason I did that was because you were there when I filed the report.” I can’t hide the anger building in my tone.
“I couldn’t tell you more. It’s a HIPAA violation to share patient information, and I would never do that. I wouldn’t risk my job.”
Another pause. “You must have said it without realizing—”
“No.” I’m at my living room window now, carefully pulling back the edge of the curtain to peer outside. The street looks normal—a few parked cars, nothing moving, no creeps lurking in the shadows. “Cole, what’s going on? And how did you just happen to see him in my neighborhood?”
“I was driving by, and I recognized him from the hospital.”
“You’ve never seen him at the hospital. You weren’t there when he threatened me.”
The lies are unraveling in real time, and I can hear Cole scrambling for explanations that don’t exist. He can’t come up with lies fast enough to cover the ones he’s already told.
“Hailey, we can talk about this later. Right now, I need you safe. Can you stay on the phone with me until I get there?”
“I…” My mind is reeling, and I can’t do this with him right now. Not while he’s speeding toward my apartment. Not while I don’t even know what I’m looking at yet. “I need space to think about this. To process everything. Please don’t come over here.”
“Hailey, wait—”
“I’ll text you when I’m ready to talk. I promise. Just—please. Give me some time.”
I hang up before he can answer, my hands shaking as I stare at the phone. Outside, the street remains quiet. No sign of Lars Winters, no indication that any of what Cole said is actually true.
How does Cole know so much? How could he recognize someone he’s never met?
Each question stacks another brick of distrust in my gut.
I sink onto my couch, Chewy immediately scrambling onto my lap as if he senses my distress. My phone rings again, Cole’s name popping up on the caller ID at the same time multiple texts from him come in, but I ignore it all, my mind racing.
I keep waiting for this to click into place as something awful.
For the horror to catch up with me the way it did when Lars Winters all but admitted he’d been stalking me.
But it doesn’t come. Underneath the shock, there’s just a mess of questions I don’t have answers for, and the quiet, unnerving feeling that I’m not as afraid of Cole as I think I should be.
Cole told me he works in security. I’ve always pictured an office, a desk, big corporate clients, and cool access badges… But I don’t think that’s who Cole is.
And despite the deep unease in my gut, I still want to know who he is.
My hands shake as I pull up Rachel’s contact and send a text. I’ve lost track of her schedule, so she could be on shift or sleeping off more overtime.
Hailey: Are you awake? I need to talk to someone.
Her response is immediate.
Rachel: Of course. What’s wrong?
My fingers shake as I type out each word.
Hailey: Something weird just happened with Cole. Can I call you?
She calls me instead of responding. Gratitude for my friend shudders through me as I hear her very tired, concerned tone.
“What happened?”
“Cole just called to warn me that Lars Winters was in my neighborhood, walking toward my building.” The words tumble out in a rush. “But Rachel, how the fuck does he know what Winters looks like?”
“Wait, what?” Rachel goes quiet for a beat. “What did he say when you asked him?”
“Nothing. He kept fumbling around with explanations that didn’t make sense, and I could hear him catching himself in a lie every time he opened his mouth.”
“Jesus, Hailey. Are you okay? Is he there?”
“No. I told him not to come. He was almost here when I told him I needed space.” I lift the curtain again, just enough to check the street. Still empty. “I think he listened. I don’t know where he is right now.”
“That’s—” Rachel exhales, the kind of whole-body breath she saves for the end of a bad shift. “That’s a lot, Hailey.”
“I know.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
I hesitate. A past version of myself would’ve told her no, begged her to go back to bed. Tonight I can’t bear the thought of being alone.
“Yeah. Please.”
“Give me twenty minutes. Don’t open the door for anyone who isn’t me.”
“I won’t.”
After she hangs up, I slide down the wall next to my front door and sit on the floor with Chewy tucked into my lap.
The TV is still playing its stupid meet-cute music in the background.
I watch my phone on the hardwood in front of me, Cole’s name flashing and disappearing every time he tries to call again.
He lied. That I know for sure.
But when he said my name, when he told me to stay away from the windows, he sounded genuinely scared for me. It wasn’t performative. He was afraid.
And I don’t know what to do with that.
I pull my knees up to my chest, rest my cheek on top of Chewy’s head, and wait for Rachel.