Page 84 of Lock Every Door

Running next to the photo is a list of vital statistics.

Name: Erica Mitchell

Age: 22

Hair: Brown

Height: 5’1”

Weight: 110 lbs.

Last seen: October 4

That was twelve days ago. Just a few days after Ingrid moved into the Bartholomew.

At the bottom of the page, also in red, is a number to call if anyone has information regarding Erica’s whereabouts.

My parents did the same thing for Jane. Our phone rang a lot those first few weeks. One of my parents always answered, no matter how late it was. But the callers were cranks or desperately lonely or kids daring each other to call a missing girl’s number.

I grab my phone and dial. I have no doubt that whoever put up that flier will be very interested to know I found Erica’s phone.

The call is answered by a man with a distinctly familiar voice.

“This is Dylan.”

I pause, surprise rendering me temporarily mute.

“Dylan the apartment sitter at the Bartholomew?”

Now it’s his turn to pause, a good two seconds broken by a suspicious, “Yes. Who is this?”

“It’s Jules,” I say. “Jules Larsen. In 12A.”

“I know who you are. How did you get my number?”

“From the missing poster for Erica Mitchell.”

The line goes dead. Another surprise.

Dylan has ended the call.

I’m about to call back when the phone buzzes in my hand.

A text from Dylan.

We can’t talk about Erica. Not here.

I text him back.Why not?

Several seconds pass before a series of rippling blue dots appears on the screen. Dylan is typing.

Someone might hear us.

I’m alone.

Do you know that for certain?

I start to type my reply—something along the lines ofParanoid much?—but Dylan beats me to the punch.

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