Chapter 219
A glance at the clock: not even six. Resigned to wakefulness, I pulled on running gear and headed downstairs.
The complex lay hushed in the pre-dawn light. Head down, focused on my rhythm, I nearly collided with another runner.
The runner who had just passed me slowed, turned, and jogged back. “Ms. Murphy?” A voice called out, clear and bright against the quiet morning.
I halted mid-stride, staring. Ryan?
Just then, an elderly man jogged up, slightly breathless. He opened his mouth, seemed to reconsider, and snapped it shut.
“Ryan? Are you staying here?” I asked with surprise.
Ryan threw a companionable arm around the old man’s shoulders. “Just crashing with my great-uncle for a bit,” he explained easily. “He lives alone, so I’m keeping him company.”
The old man blinked, momentarily flustered, and then nodded with perhaps excessive enthusiasm. “Yes! The boy’s been very attentive.”
I studied the slightly incongruous pair, a flicker of doubt surfacing, but dismissed it with a nod. “Small world. I’m in Building A. And you?”
“Building C,” Ryan answered, jerking a thumb towards the adjacent building.
I offered a faint smile. “Right. See you.” Then I resumed my run.
Back home, I scrambled some breakfast, showered quickly, and prepared to work. Around eight, my phone buzzed–a text from Jared: [Your car has been returned to your parking space.]
Recalling how coldly I’d treated him last night, I was surprised Jared wasn’t furious. Instead, he’d orchestrated the return of my car. I chuckled bitterly. Too little, far too late. Belated gestures were worthless. My reply was curt: [Thanks.]
Driving out, I noticed Ryan standing at the curb, arm raised for a taxi. It was rush hour right now, not a cab in sight. Glancing at the overflowing bus stop nearby, I pulled over beside him. “Hop in, I’ll give you a lift.”
A grin spread across Ryan’s face as he slid into the back seat. “Thanks, Ms. Murphy. Seriously, you’re a lifesaver,” he said with genuine gratitude.
I gave a small, dismissive smile. “Just look after my team.”
Ryan asked to hop out a block from the office to avoid potential gossip, I noted. Smart kid. Good instincts.
Later, he appeared at my office door, placing a Starbucks cup on my desk. “Fare payment,” he announced with a quick grin before disappearing.
Well, if he framed it as fare, refusing would seem churlish.
Days had passed without seeing Yvonne. Jared had mentioned Sally whisking her away on a vacation. True to form, my phone lit up today with a barrage of photos from Yvonne–snapshots flooding in from her trip. I scrolled through silently, offering no response.
She even sent a dramatic close-up of a scraped knee, followed by a deluge of weepy, woebegone emojis.
Day one: over twenty photos. By day two and beyond, the count soared past a hundred. My phone practically vibrated with the digital onslaught. Finally, I caved and texted: [Focus on having fun. Please, ease up on the photos.]
To her credit, Yvonne listened. For the next few days, my phone remained mercifully photo-free.
Over lunch with Melissa, she mentioned she’d never been to Lanimire and was curious. I pulled out my phone. “Yvonne’s been documenting her trip relentlessly. Want to see?”
Melissa pored over the pictures with far more attention than I’d ever mustered. Suddenly, she jabbed a finger at one. "Image Victoria, kökitar in the background.” Her voice dropped. “Is that Tracy?”
I froze. Snatching the phone back, I peered at the grainy background figure. A cold, heavy stone seemed to drop into my gut.
“Didn’t you say she was pregnant? That she’d gone abroad to have the baby?” Melissa’s brow furrowed as she scrutinized the image. “She doesn't look pregnant here. Not at all.”
The air suddenly felt thick, difficult to draw. Sally took Yvonne abroad to visit Tracy? The implication slammed into me, cold and sickening. What game were they playing?