Page 98 of Let Me In

Luca brushes past my leg with a low whine. Cleo darts under the table.

I stand still in the entryway.

Still wearing his kiss.

It lingers like warmth against my mouth, like the hum of his voice pressed low in my chest. I can feel it every time I breathe.

And I'm still holding his voice in my chest.

I tuck my phone into my pocket. Grip it tight like a lifeline.

And I think—just a few hours.

I can make it a few hours.

Because I know he’ll come back.

He said he would.

And this time?

I believe him.

21

CAL

CAL

I drive an hour west.

Not far.

Just enough.

Enough to get off any main roads, to find a signal without drawing one.

Enough to be alone.

There’s a safehouse cabin tucked behind a line of evergreens near an old quarry—one of a handful scattered across the island from another life, another name. I haven’t been here in years.

It’s clean. Functional. Just what I need.

I pull the burner from the glove compartment.

Power it on.

The screen glows low, the number list still blank, just the way I left it. I tap in the name of an old contact—someone who owes me, someone who’ll talk if I ask the right way.

While I wait for a response, I open the drawer beneath the old field desk.

The folder’s still there. Photos, notes, faces. Some from before. Some from after.

I spread them out in neat rows. Methodical. Quiet.

And I find him.

The man from the field.

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