The texts came at three in the morning.
My phone lit up on the nightstand, buzzing insistently. I grabbed it, still half-asleep, expecting an emergency.
Instead, I found fifteen messages from Layla.
vi please
i need to talk to you
everything is falling apart
he wont answer my calls
the money is gone
vi please im begging you
I sat up, suddenly wide awake. Read through them again. The timestamps showed they'd come rapid-fire, one after another, over the span of ten minutes.
Another one came through as I watched.
i know you hate me but please
i have nobody else
mom wont talk to me either
please vi just five minutes
I should have deleted them. Blocked her number. Gone back to sleep. Marcus had been clear about no contact with anyone involved in the case.
But something in those
