Mending a broken heart.

Part 12: Business partners

"Nothing is making sense right now," Leya says grabbing a water bottle out of Sean's fridge and sitting on the table, as Chelsea and Sean go through the phone.

"There's nothing in here, besides numbers," Chelsea informs.

."Lots of marshmallows with the hot chocolate and anything expensive you can add. Maybe even your most expensive desert as well," I say to the waitress with a smile and she looks at me warily, but continues writing on her notepad, "I'm not paying. They are," I say to her with reassurance pointing towards Sean and Chelsea.

I can hear and feel Chelsea's breath fan my neck, probably mouth ajar; shooketh. Which she should be, considering the fright they gave me earlier. The least they could do is treat me, after basically making me their own experimental bait doll.

"It's fine, she'll take it" Sean nods to the waitress.

"No, wait," I stop her from leaving and she looks at me, "just the hot chocolate."

"No, it's fine, Leya, I got it," he says with a smile.

"I don't want it," I say looking at him, before turning to the waitress, "just the beverage please."

Before anymore of us can make any more changes, she dashes away.

"We should give the phone in, Sean," Chelsea asks.

"No" Sean replies.

"What do you want to do with it? We're in over our heads here Sean, we need to hand it in. The police will know what to do with it," Leya says looking directly at him, tapping her fingers on the table.

"Because my dad is into illegal shit and whatever he's got himself in, if they police find out, they'll stop looking for him and spend more time looking at all the cracks in his shady business life just so when they find him they can place him into jail."

"Sounds like a noble man," I comment irritated by the idea of wasting my time helping him trace his criminal of a dad, "Are you sure you want to find him? He could be hiding?"

"I know my dad Leya. He would have left a message. Something. Anything. Just to make sure we're okay."

"So what do you think is on the phone?" Chelsea asks immediately probably hoping to shift the mood, to something positive.

We decided that with this little device in our hands, it's best to come to a public area, because according to Sean, "They might have kidnapped him for this, so we need witnesses." Whoever "they" is. So we settled on this busy little café just cloe to our homes.

"Well, there's just three numbers here" he says scrolling through the phone, "and all these apps are empty."

"There wasn't a password on it?" I ask.

"No," he quickly replies.

"Seems too easy, then."

Who has a secret phone and no password on it? Why have a secret phone then.

"Did you check the messages?" Chelsea asks.

"Yeah, there's just one and it's just a bunch of numbers that make no sense at all."

"Who is it to?" she continues asking.

"Probably to one of the only three contacts he has," he answers.

"Who do you think they are?" I ask.

"I don't know. Emergency contacts. Who knows."

"On a secret phone?" I question further looking at Chelsea, who shrugs and looks back at Sean.