Page 104 of Run For Me
7-8-1-5-8-3
Completely random. I never would have guessed that.
Greenberg unplugs the phone and punches in the numbers on the screen, then hands it to me.
“Here,” he says, shoving it toward me.
“That’s it?” I ask.
“Yes. Take it.”
I grab the phone, looking at the home screen, shocked that it actually worked. I snap out of it and press on the text message app that has five unread messages.
Unknown:We’re here.
Unknown:What do we do now?
Unknown:Hello?
Unknown:What is going on?
Unknown:Hello??????
What is the best way to handle this? I don’t know where they are and there are no previous text messages for me to look through.
“Is there a way to get deleted texts?” I bark.
Orville gets up and takes the phone, pressing a few buttons, then hands the phone back. “There is a folder to see them. It was added in the most recent upgrade.”
I browse through the list of deleted texts, restoring all of them because I can’t take any chances. Clearly my mother wasn’t that smart. She had no idea her deleted messages would be saved. Thank fuck for that. Time is dwindling.
“Thank god she’s so fucking stupid,” I mutter when I see the address she sent to the same number these recent texts are from. “Pull this address up,” I say, shoving the phone at him.
Orville goes to his computer again and types in the address to a search bar. It loads and zooms in on a broken-down house in the middle of nowhere. I move closer to look at it over his shoulder.
“How close to a police station is this?” I ask.
He types something into the search bar. “Thirty minutes. The area isn’t very populated.”
“Where can I hide a body out there?”
His jaw drops. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” I bark.
He groans, then turns back to the computer and types in a few things and moves around on the screen.
“Here,” he says, pointing to the screen. “The bluffs. Just… toss them over, I guess.”
I grin at the screen, then pat him on the shoulder. He flinches. “Thanks, Green Bean. I owe you big time.”
I turn to leave. He calls out after me, “Repay me by not telling anyone I helped you with this!” I chuckle. “I refuse to be an accessory to murder!”
I guess I can do that.
Chapter Sixty
Sailor
