The Quite Ridge

Chapter 4 – Sadie

By the time lunch came, I was already tired, not from the work but from pretending. The calls hadn’t stopped, one after another, filling the quiet in a way that made everything feel normal even when it wasn’t. I wrote everything down, followed what Maddie showed me, kept my voice steady every time I answered the phone. No one on the other end could tell anything was off. I made sure of that.

My phone stayed on the desk, face down, right where I left it. I didn’t touch it, didn’t flip it over, didn’t check to see if there was anything else waiting. I didn’t need to. The message hadn’t gone anywhere. It sat in the back of my mind, sharp and clear like it had just happened. You really thought you could just disappear? I forced myself to focus on the next call, writing down an address slower than I needed to just to keep my hands moving, to keep everything controlled.

“Okay, we can get someone out there Thursday,” I said into the phone, my voice even. “Yeah, between nine and eleven. Perfect.” I hung up and added it to the schedule, telling myself everything was normal, that nothing had changed.

“Not bad,” Maddie said, glancing over. “You’re picking it up quick.”

“Trying to,” I said.

She smiled. “You are. Most people get overwhelmed now.”

I almost laughed at that. If only she knew.

We ended up eating lunch at the desk, nothing big, just something quick between calls. Maddie talked more then, not about work this time, just things—where she grew up, how she ended up here, how long she’d been working at the company. It was easy to listen, easy to nod, to respond when I needed to, easy to pretend I was just another person sitting there.

“So what about you?” she asked at one point, leaning back slightly. “You from around here?”

My stomach tightened just enough to notice. “Not really.”

“Where from?”

“Different places.”

She watched me for a second, like she knew that wasn’t really an answer, then she smiled anyway. “Fair enough.”

She let it go.

I was grateful for that.

By the time the afternoon settled in, the office felt different. Quieter, even with the phones still ringing. The light coming through the window had shifted, softer now, stretching across the floor and the desk in a way that made everything feel slower, longer. I caught myself looking at the door more than once, waiting without knowing what I was waiting for, and that was the worst part.

Nothing else happened. No calls from that number. No messages. No sign of anything. That should’ve made me feel better, but it didn’t, because silence didn’t mean it was over, it just meant he was taking his time.

My eyes drifted to the window again. The yard looked the same, a couple trucks still there, equipment where it had been earlier, everything in place, everything controlled. I let my gaze linger for a second, then forced myself to look away. I didn’t need another reason to feel off.

“Are you okay?” Maddie asked.

I blinked, pulling my attention back to her. “Yeah.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Are you sure?”

The question was casual, light, but it still hit wrong. “I’m just tired,” I said. “First day.”

She nodded like that made sense. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

I let out a small breath, grateful she didn’t push.

The rest of the afternoon dragged, not because there was nothing to do, but because I couldn’t stop waiting. Every time my phone buzzed—even if it wasn’t mine—my chest tightened. Every time the door opened somewhere outside, I noticed. Every sound felt just a little too sharp, a little too close.

By the time the day started winding down, I realized something I didn’t want to admit. I wasn’t waiting for another message. I wasn’t waiting for a call. I was waiting for something worse, and I had a feeling it wasn’t going to stay quiet for long.