The Tuesday After the Flight
I had called Steph again that morning just in case she was finally in the mood to answer, but there was nothing but voicemail. I was thinking about her being with some guy in Atlanta and completely ignoring her very important job, and I was just contemplating my next move—should I call HR?—when Bruce, Nora, and Lucy burst in. Lucy was talking very fast.
“Dave, we’re sorry to bug you, but we think something bad may have happened to Stephanie. There is no way this is her responding to my text.” She shoved her phone my way and I tried to absorb the information. All three were staring at me.
I scanned their faces and stopped my eyes harshly on Bruce, who had clearly disobeyed my orders not to say anything. He knew exactly what I was thinking and looked down. Nora jumped in.
“Dave, it’s my fault. I told Lucy. We’re only trying to help, though. Please look at the texts.”
“And who told you, Nora?” I couldn’t help but unpeel this onion to see who had violated my orders.
Bruce gulped but stepped forward and said, “I mentioned it to Nora when it first happened, sir. I didn’t know at the time that we wanted to keep things quiet.”
“Things like this always need to stay quiet,” I scolded them. “Some things are private, the entire newsroom doesn’t need to know. Bruce—we’ll talk more about this later. Now what am I supposed to be looking at?”
“This text, about Susan and Frank,” Lucy said, pointing.
“Who are Susan and Frank?” I asked, my hand starting to stroke my mustache.
“Those are my parents’ names,” replied Nora. “But Steph doesn’t know that. We just threw names into a text to try and trap her. We think someone else might be controlling her phone.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked. “Controlling her phone? Like acting like they are her?”
“Yes,” Lucy and Nora said almost in unison. Bruce was very quiet.
“Stay calm,” I said, channeling the voice I used with my three-year-old grandson. “Sit down and let’s talk this out.”
The three of them perched nervously on the edges of their chairs and looked at me expectantly.
“Let’s think rationally,” I began. “Maybe Stephanie knows a Susan and Frank that we don’t know, so it makes sense to her. She was obviously at the conference, so are you saying something has happened to her since then?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” said Lucy.
“Hmmm…” My mind was whirling. Could someone actually have her phone? I couldn’t show my worry to Nora, Bruce, and Lucy, though, so I tried to think of another plan. “If you truly believe that someone else has her phone, we need a bit more evidence.”
“Wait a minute, I have an idea!” Lucy called out. “She only has one sister, right? What if we texted something about a brother and see what she says?”
We all looked at one another, eyes flicking back and forth. Bruce gave a slight nod, Nora a more enthusiastic one. They turned to me. I realized I had a big decision to make. I had more information than they did. I had talked to Robert. I knew she was shacked up with some guy. Maybe she just needed space, or maybe the new boyfriend was texting on her behalf as she was sleeping or in the shower. But what if he was controlling her? Keeping her trapped somewhere and using her phone? I gulped at the thought. This was Steph, a trusted employee, someone I cared about.
“OK, I guess,” I said. “Try it and see what happens.”
Lucy eagerly took the phone and started typing. When she was done, she read it aloud.
Your brother stopped by to invite you to lunch. Since you’re out, he said he would call you to schedule a time.
She looked at all of us anxiously. “How does that sound? If it’s really her, she’ll be like, ‘You know I don’t have a brother! What are you talking about?’”
“Fine, hit send,” I told her. She took a deep breath, her finger hovering over her phone, then pushed it down. We all reflexively leaned forward, trying for a better view. Lucy was staring at the screen, waiting.
“Nothing yet,” she said. “It might take a while.”
I sighed. This seemed like a fruitless exercise. How long could I have these three in my office away from the newsroom? I was just about to usher them back when Lucy jumped.
“Wait! The typing bubbles are going,” she cried out. We all sat, collective breath held. The room got very quiet, and the sound of a car driving past was the only noise. Lucy’s hand began to shake a little bit.
“It’s taking a long time to write back,” she said in a loud whisper. Nora leaned over to watch the bubbles. My throat felt dry.
Lucy’s face and Nora’s simultaneously contorted into shapes I couldn’t make out. Nora made a guttural moan.
“What does it say, Lucy?” I asked.
“It says, ‘OK, thanks,’” she squeaked out.
Bruce slumped in his chair and ran his hands through his hair. Nora’s eyes filled with tears. A prickle overtook my spine.
Lucy began typing something back, but we were all too preoccupied for the moment to stop her. I saw her hit send.
“What did you say back?” I asked. She passed me the phone and I read the text out loud.
I know you have a couple of brothers. This was the youngest one—I forgot his name, what is it again?
“Since she has zero brothers, I want to see how she responds,” said Lucy. “I know she saw it, the read receipt is up.”
We waited for a full five minutes, but there was no return text.
“Let me try again,” she said, typing quickly and then reading:
Something with an A, right? I just can’t recall
“The real Steph would think I was nuts at this point and say something snarky back. She read this one too. Why is she not saying anything?” Lucy said.
A few more minutes passed. We all looked at one another with worry.
“Something is really wrong here,” said Lucy. “I’m going to just ask her straight up.”
Steph—are you OK?
Lucy’s voice shook a little as she read it aloud and hit send. I felt a twitch in my right thumb, something that always started up when I was nervous. We stared at one another. There was no response, and somehow we knew, we all knew, that this was very, very bad.