“Hey.”

  Ever stared at the word - it stared back at him. His thumbs hovered over the screen, on stand by for further instructions. The messages from Zoe had fallen silent, as if they had noticed the anonymous intruder and were waiting to see what Ever would do. He made a decision; his digits started tapping.

  “Hello, who is this?”

  The words whooshed up from the draft screen, committed to the conversation and now sat below and to the side of the casual greeting. Bubbles bounced in rhythm, as the unknown person drafted their response. Every so often, the bubbles would disappear, only to reappear again seconds later. This person’s name must have been very long and hard to type out correctly.

  “Who do you think it is?”

  The message stood defiantly, glaring at Ever’s words on the other side of the screen. It was question versus question. Why would someone write this? A customer came in: a younger man in a new suit bought off the hanger. It looked a size too small. He slipped the phone back into this pocket. Greet. Smile. Take order, scoop. “Cup or cone?” Take payment. Smile. Say good bye.

  The apprentice reaper shifted the weight between his feet, letting his arms swing like pendulums. He suddenly stopped, grabbing his phone out even though it hadn’t vibrated. He looked at the message from the stranger, scanning for something, anything to verify his hunch. With only seven words written, it was hard to confirm anything. Still, he dared to believe. His thumbs tapped, fractionally faster.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Is this Taylor?”

  Yet another question. Were there going to be any answers in this conversation? It made sense, though. He didn’t have a phone when he worked with Taylor; he only got one after he started working with Logan. Logan supposedly knew what Taylor was up to. He would be talking to her about him. She would have found out from her uncle that Ever got a phone and asked for his number through him. It had to be her.

  A message came through. Ever’s eyes widened; his heart stopped, then plummeted into his bowels. It was a picture of Taylor; that’s what caused his heart to momentarily stop beating. What made him feel sick was that she had tape over her mouth, eyes pleading to someone behind the camera.

  Ever hit the call button straight away. It rang and rang, each ring brittle to his ears. Someone picked up but before Ever could get a word in, they hung up. He tried calling again to no avail. A message came through.

  “I’ve got Taylor she is safe. If you want to see her released, send $50 to these account details.”

  Hands shaking, he typed in the account details, triple checking them before sending the ransom.

  “I’ve just sent it, did you get it?”

  The message balls bounced ominously.

  “Yes.”

  Ever hoped customers wouldn’t come in right now; he wouldn’t be able to serve them. He stared at the screen, waiting for a sign.

  A new picture came through. It was of Taylor’s back as she ran out of a dark room, away from the person holding the phone.

  “I have let her go.”