BRENT'S POV
“What is it?”
Joan asked quickly, her voice calm, and her eyes studied my face like a scientist examining germs through a sophisticated microscope.
Then her gaze drifted to my hand, the way I held the phone. My body language had already given her the answer before I could.
Something wasn't adding up.
“I said, what is that? Whose message is that?”
She asked again. Her voice sounded distant, like it was coming from the bottom of an ocean. She stood close by, yet mentally far away from me.
Curiosity overwhelmed her voice.
I couldn't answer.
My mind was somewhere else and my lips remained tightly sealed. I stood still like a giant statue in the middle of a busy highway.
The message. The sender.
Who could have done this? Who could have sent me such an anonymous message?
