Page 20 of Lights Out

“I don’t have anywhere else to put these,” Aly said, loud enough that both the microphone on her laptop and the one attached to the camera in her bedroom picked it up.

The delivery man’s response was muffled.

“No, I know that’s not your problem, but come on,” she said.

My amusement faded. Was he being rude to her?

Keep driving, stupid,I told myself. I couldn’t pull over and teach him a lesson about politeness right now. That would ruin everything. But maybe I could figure out who these guys were and find some digital way to show them the error of their ways.

“How about this,” Aly said. “Take them to the nurses’ station at Prescott Memorial.”

The response was muffled again.

“Fifty bucks to drive them ten minutes away?” she said. “Are you serious?”

I grimaced. Well, this was backfiring.

A heavy sigh came through the speakers as I parked a street away from hers. “Let me get my wallet,” I heard her say.

I yanked my phone from its dock just in time to watch her stomp into her bedroom, looking pissed. Fred was lying curled up in a ball on her comforter, nonplussed at all the noise.

Aly grabbed her wallet from her handbag and paused long enough to scratch Fred between the ears. “I hope you bit the Faceless Man.”

Fred made a little chirruping noise in response. I chose to interpret that as him defending my character. Weren’t pets supposed to have some sixth sense and could always tell the good people from the bad? He hadn’t so much as hissed at me. In fact, he wouldn’t leave me alone the whole time I was there, and I eventually had to shut him out of Aly’s room so I could film in peace. I took that as a sign that I wasn’t as damned as I thought, and a little light, okay, heavy stalking wasn’t enough to condemn me.

Aly paid the delivery driver and shut her front door hard enough that my speakers rattled.

Great,she typed a minute later.On top of being a pain in the ass and way over the top, your gift just cost me fifty bucks.

I slid down in my seat, wishing I could apologize but knowing I shouldn’t. Oh, wait. Didn’t Aly have a payment app? I pulled one of my anonymous accounts up on the tablet and found her on the app, sending her fifty bucks via the same stolen credit card I’d used to buy the flowers.

Seriously?she asked.You think that makes up for all this hassle?

I drummed my fingers against the dashboard, frustrated about my inability to communicate with her. I almost brought myburner phone, but I’d left it behind, telling myself it was too early to text her from it.

A loudding-dongcame from my speakers. Her doorbell? I pulled up my tracking app, and sure enough, my other gifts had just arrived.

I heard a door open and then, “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to deliver a package to Alyssa Cappellucci?” a man said, mangling her last name.

She didn’t bother to correct him. “I’m she.”

“Sign here?” he said.

“But I didn’t order anything.”

“So, you’re refusing delivery?”

“Uh…no?” she said.

“Then please sign here.”

“Who sent this?”

“No idea,” was the response. “We don’t get that information. Do you want the package or not?”

“Fine, yeah.”

---