I FELT SICK TO MY stomach, knowing I’d seen something Anna would never have wanted me to see, and also deeply confused. If she’d sent the photo to one number, I’d have assumed I had my answer. But two? Two was different.

Additionally, there was something off about the photo. She wasn’t smiling—wasn’t looking flirty or pouty or anything I thought someone might aim for in that kind of photo. Instead, she looked almost angry. Like she resented taking it.

One of the numbers had no name attached, only the number. There were no other texts to that number.

The second one was listed as “pf5.” There were other texts from this number, unfortunately all unhelpfully short and clipped:

Not today.

Meet me in the parking lot.

You’re late.

---

—

I HEADED OUTSIDE TO TAKE the next step. When I reached the outermost white line of the football field and took a deep breath. Then I used Anna’s phone and called the first number she’d sent the picture to.

As it rang, I couldn’t help but picture it vibrating in Mr. Matthews’s pocket, his fingers reaching in to picking it up. Couldn’t help but wonder what his face might look like when he saw her name on his screen.

No one picked up. And when the phone finally stopped ringing, I was dumped into a generic voice mail box.

My hands were shaking so hard that I had to hit the button twice to hang up.

Then I tried calling the second number.

It rang three times before a voice came on the line. A cold, mechanical voice telling me that the number I had dialed was no longer in service. I listened to the message four times before it sank in and I slowly hung up.

I sat down in the grass, my nerves shot. I’d thought Anna’s phone would provide answers. Instead, I only had more questions.