Every Thursday At 3

Chapter 8 — Thursday Again

Chapter 8 — Thursday Again

The bruise around May’s wrist was impossible to ignore.

It was faint, almost hidden beneath the sleeve of her sweater, but Travis noticed it the moment she sat down.

“What happened?”

May looked at her wrist.

“This?”

“Yes.”

“I fell.”

Travis waited.

She smiled.

“You don't believe me.”

“No.”

Her smile disappeared.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

Rain tapped against the hospital window. The clock on the wall moved steadily toward 3:30.

“You're getting better at this,” May said.

“At what?”

“Knowing when I'm lying.”

“That's part of my job.”

“No.” She looked directly at him. “Knowing when someone is lying is how you survive here.”

Travis leaned back.

“Who hurt you?”

May looked toward the door.

“Daniel.”

The name changed the room.

“You said Daniel disappeared.”

“He did.”

“Then how could he hurt you?”

“I didn't say he disappeared after he hurt me.”

Travis stared at her.

May lowered her voice.

“Daniel wasn't supposed to be involved.”

“Involved in what?”

“The Thursday meetings.”

Travis felt a chill.

“What meetings?”

May didn't answer.

Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out a photograph.

She placed it on the table.

Travis froze.

It was Daniel.

He stood outside Westbridge Hospital.

Behind him was the unmistakable entrance to Room 214.

Travis turned the photograph over.

A date was written on the back.

Yesterday.

“That isn't possible,” he whispered.

May watched him carefully.

“That's what I told myself.”

“You took this?”

“No.”

“Who did?”

“I don't know.”

Travis looked back at the photograph.

Daniel had been officially reported missing.

Yet here he was.

Alive.

Standing outside a room that supposedly hadn't been used for years.

“May,” Travis said slowly, “what aren't you telling me?”

Her eyes filled with something he couldn't identify.

Fear.

Maybe guilt.

“Someone is pretending to be Daniel.”

Before Travis could respond, the lights went out.

The room plunged into darkness.

Somewhere in the corridor, a door slammed.

May stood immediately.

“Stay here.”

“May—”

A second sound came from outside.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Measured.

Coming toward them.

Then the emergency lights flickered on.

The corridor was empty.

But the photograph was gone.

Travis looked at May.

She looked just as shocked.

Then she whispered:

“They know you're looking.”