The Last of Us

Nineteen

It has been a while since I received an email. It didn't help that all my leads had dried up.

Nothing more had come from the mystery behind who 'Ed' is. I hadn't spoken to Ben since he decided to begin investigating the case without me. He seemed to want to insert himself in a case with no connection.

I was starting to worry that my obsession with finding the truth would never happen. That everything I'd worked out in the past few weeks would amount to nothing but unsolved ends.

My mind has been preoccupied with avoiding my mother, but she is beginning to suspect I'm up to something. Every time I go to my room, she appears in the doorway to ask me a question.

I wish I could be honest with her, but I know that will only lead to her worrying unnecessarily. I wouldn't say I liked having this divide between us, but it was the only way forward.

I'm lying in bed, scrolling through the emails my manager has forwarded me with possible upcoming events I'd been asked to speak at. One was a live podcast with a psychologist who was interviewing trauma survivors.

I respond that they all sound good, even though my facial expression doesn't morph anywhere close to a feeling of excitement.

Even if I know it isn't healthy, this case is beginning to become my entire life. I was sure the girls in my support group were starting to feel my lack of enthusiasm.

I'm exhausted from this. The constant sleepless nights worry if Jason Randall lurks behind a nearby corner, the fear that Talia will become a cold case.

My phone dings from a new message from Ben. He's sending me another link, a Facebook account that he believes could be 'Ed'. This is his sixth profile this week. At this point, I'm sure he's just scrolling through Talia's friends, choosing any boy with a cold stare.

I ignore it, turning off my phone with a sigh.

I want to understand how 'Ed' fits into this or if he could just be a dead end. Was Dylan even telling the truth, or was he just good at lying?

Was Talia involved with some sketchy people? Did her death have anything to do with Randall, or were the emails just sent by a copycat looking to scare me?

So many questions that I wish I could answer.

I get an email notification, and my heart suddenly stops.

It's another email.

I heard you might be looking for Ed.

Too bad he's probably already dead.

Drug addicts never last very long around here.

112-119 Smith Avenue.

Don't be later than 1 am, or you'll miss out!

My hands are trembling as I set my phone down on the bedside table. I dreaded knowing what any of this meant, but there was no doubt I had to go to the address.

The only issue would be my mother. She had become a night owl recently. I wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that she was up late waiting for me to sneak out like a teenager.

If so, she'd had a reason to. Maybe not before now, but that didn't mean she'd been wrong.

I check the time, feeling a cold sensation sliver over me. I had two hours before one in the morning. The address was a half-hour drive away. I needed to leave now to be safe.