Page 83 of Second Chance

“Uh,” Tony tries. “Who is this?”

“Fuck, sorry. It’s Paul. Weintrob? Daniel’s—”

“Paul!” Tony’s heart jumps into his throat. “Have you heard from Daniel?”

“Maybe.”

Tony blinks. “What the fuck does ‘maybe’ mean?”

“About an hour and a half ago, I got a text on my phone.”

“Okay.” Tony’s running out of patience quickly. Paul is a weird guy at the best of times, and right now, Tony doesn’t have the stomach for it. “From Daniel?”

“On thelandline. Frankly, I didn’t know it could do that.”

“Oh, shit. It’s the only number Daniel knows by heart.”

“Right,” Paul agrees. “And he never lets me forget it. My own parents never use the landline anymore, only him.”

“So he texted you?”

“He sent a text to the landline, or at least I think he did, and an automated woman’s voice read it out loud. She said the number it was from, too, but it’s not Daniel’s number.”

“What did it say?”

“Tony. Germantown. Come alone. No 911.” Paul recites it by rote, like he’s reading it off something. But that’s Tony’s name. That’s information straight from Daniel. That’s proof he’s not dead, or at least he wasn’t when he sent the message.

Relief gets Tony right in the knees, and he’s sitting heavily on the bed before he realizes what he’s doing. He can barely breathe. The vague, heavy fear he’s been carrying since this morning crystallizes into an anxious desire to get to Germantown right now, to end this.

“Tony, what the hell is going on?”

Oh, right. Tony hasn’t told him. “Daniel’s been missing since yesterday. No one has heard from him. He left his car. His phoneisn’t on. And, uh. Someone stabbed a professor at his college last week.”

Paul lets loose an impressive string of profanity. “‘Why couldn’t you find a nice cushy job at a rural college, Paul,’” he mocks. “‘The city is so dangerous.’ I am never taking my parents seriously again. What the fuck is happening upstate?”

Tony laughs shakily. “I wish I knew. This is the first we’ve heard from him.”

“Okay,” Paul says. “Okay, okay. So, I listened to it three times, and then I accidentally deleted it. But I’m about eighty-nine percent certain those were the exact words. Tony, Germantown, come alone, no 911. You’re the only Tony I know, and Germantown is pretty close to you guys, so it has to be Daniel, right?”

Germantown. No police. That’s…ominous, at best.

“And you might be getting some concerned calls,” Paul adds. “I had to call Mari, who called Daniel’s parents to get your number, to send it back to me.”

“Daniel’s parents know. At least his mom does. His dad was in surgery today, so you probably didn’t catch him.”

“God, you two are domestic.”

“Thanks, I think. You’re sure the message didn’t say anything else?”

“Nothing.”

There’s a long, awkward pause in which Tony tries to think of a good way to end this conversation.

“Christ,” Paul says, “Um, do you need anything?”

Tony has more help than he can deal with. “Thanks, but not right now. Let me know if you get anything else. This is actually really good.”

“How?”

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