Page 18 of Closer Than You Think
Nine
Hallie
The last of the day's sunlight filters through the blinds, casting slanted shadows over my desk. The final bell had already sent my students scampering out the door, their laughter lingering in the hushed corridors of the school. I gather my belongings with a sense of relief—another day done, another step closer to . . . what, exactly?
Most days I’m not really sure.
My phone breaks the silence, its insistent buzz jarring against the quiet. Alex Mercer's name flashes across the screen, and I hesitate for just a beat before answering. “Hello?”
“Hey, Hallie, it's Alex. Got a minute?”
I smooth down the front of my blouse, buying time before I respond. “Not many. What's up?”
“Listen, about Teddy's case—I found something that links him to the Syndicate but I need more.” His voice is like quicksilver, slippery and persistent.
“Alex, I told you, I haven't found anything,” I say, feeling the weight of my backpack as I sling it over my shoulder. The classroom feels suddenly claustrophobic, the walls inching closer.
“Come on, there must be something you're overlooking. You know how important this is.”
I find myself walking towards the door, eager to escape the confines of the room. “I really don't know if I can help you, Alex.” My words come out brisker than I intend, but the desperation in his tone sets off alarms in my head.
“Think about it, Hallie. You could be sitting on crucial information. Don’t you want to get justice for Teddy?”
“I don’t even know,” I whisper under my breath. I feel a pang of guilt, but allow myself to be confused and unsure about my feelings. Teddy was my boyfriend, but I clearly didn’t know him well if he was into drugs. And if he wasn’t and he really was murdered because of his criminal associations, that just proves the point even more.
“Hallie, please?—”
“I can’t get into this right now. Goodbye, Alex.” I end the call, cutting off whatever he's about to say next. The silence that follows is almost worse, filled with unspoken threats and the echo of my own doubts.
The click of my apartment door signals the end of one world and the beginning of another. I kick off my shoes, feeling the familiar softness of the rug beneath my feet, a stark contrast to the rigid structure of my classroom. The air is scented with lavender today, a calming balm to the chaos that churned in my stomach on the way home.
I drop my keys onto the small table by the entrance, their clatter mingling with the sigh that escapes me. As I shrug off my coat, my thoughts drift involuntarily to the looming Teddy mystery—a puzzle I've tried to shove into the darkest corners ofmy mind. But like the stubborn sunlight peeking through the curtains, it refuses to be ignored.
My gaze lingers on the empty space on my bookshelf where Teddy's tablet used to be. It gnaws at me, this gap between what I know and what I should discover. I've been avoiding it, but why? Maybe it's fear, or perhaps it's something else entirely.
Resolve hardens within me as I make my way to my desk. I need to find that tablet. If secrets are hidden within its digital confines, I need to unearth them. For Teddy, for myself, for the truth that someone doesn't want found.
I pull open the drawer, the smooth glide of wood against wood whispering promises of revelations. Nothing. Just pens, paper clips, and old lesson plans. My heart rate picks up as I search through other drawers, cabinets, under stacks of papers—each empty discovery heightening the knot of anxiety in my belly.
As I stand in the center of my living room, surrounded by the silence of unyielding walls, a peculiar sensation creeps over me. The fine hairs on the back of my neck rise, an instinctive response to unseen eyes. My pulse thrums in my ears, drowning out the gentle hum of the city beyond my window.
I spin around, a sudden movement driven by the primal part of my brain that screams 'You are not alone.' But I am. The room is just as I left it, bathed in the golden hue of dusk, with no sign of intrusion. No sign of anyone watching.
“Get a grip, Hallie,” I chide myself, though the unease doesn't dissipate completely. It lingers, a shiver down my spine, a whisper in the quiet.
I let out a breath and press my fingers to my temples. Paranoia isn't my usual companion, but then again, neither are reporters with relentless questions and mysteries tied to the dearly departed. He’d mentioned treading lightly for my sake. Could this entire situation be dangerous for me? I would neverwant to get involved with something like the Syndicate, only now, I feel like it’s been brought to my door.
Or hidden inside my home, I think as I look around, wondering what mysteries Teddy left.
I force myself to move, to prepare dinner, to do anything that might anchor me back to normalcy. Yet, as I chop vegetables, the sensation of invisible eyes tracking every slice, every dice, refuses to leave me. It's absurd, but the feeling is there, as real as the blade in my hand.
“Enough,” I mutter, focusing on the rhythm of my knife against the cutting board. “You're safe here, Hallie. You're just tired, that's all.”
But somewhere, deep down, I know it's more than exhaustion. It's a prelude to something darker, something that waits just beyond the threshold of my understanding.
Without meaning to, I think of Silas, my new neighbor with eyes like storm clouds and a presence that both unnerves and enthralls me. There's this nagging sense that our paths have crossed before, in a life less guarded than the one I lead now. His enigmatic aura weaves a thread of excitement through me.
My mind is a blur of work, Teddy, Silas, and nagging reporters. I feel myself spiraling. I shove the ingredients back into the refrigerator, take a sleeping pill, and go to bed.
