Unscheduled Departure Read Online Free Page B

own ears. "Lindsay's coming over for a girl's night. We're going to hang out and watch a movie or something."
    Finn was silent for a moment. "You sure?"
    "Yeah, yeah, of course. Like I said, it's probably just a stupid prank."
    "Well, if they call back, you should call the cops or something. They can trace it and get the little monsters to leave you alone."
    I let out another short laugh. "Well, I don't think it'll come to that. I'll just ignore the calls from now on."
    "Good idea." I heard a rustle of fabric. "You sure you're okay?"
    I let out a quiet breath.
    No .
    "I'm fine," I said. "Have fun tonight and I'll talk to you tomorrow?"
    "Yeah, okay. Love you."
    I swallowed, a dry gulp, and my words came out choked. "Love you, too."
    I hung up and set the phone down next to me on the bed. I'd lied to Finn. Lied when I said I was fine. Lied when I said I thought the calls were a prank.
    Because I knew they weren't. I knew Finn's voice and—bad connection or not—I'd recognize it anywhere. It had been Finn who called me. But I also couldn't believe he'd lie to me about it. Couldn't understand why he would.
    I was still sitting there, my mind on an endless loop, when a knock sounded at my front door. I got up to answer it, leaving the phone behind, and found Lindsay standing in the hall, tapping her foot impatiently.
    "They were out of pancakes for the Moo Shu, so we'll just have to make do," she said as she pushed by me, plastic bags dangling from her fingers. Her colorful skirt swirled around her, the familiar scent of patchouli oil wafting in her wake.
    "I brought wine," she said as she set the bags on the kitchen table. "Where's your corkscrew?"
    "Top drawer."
    "Sit," she ordered, jerking her head toward the couch.
    "Linds, I'm fine."
    Her eyes narrowed and she took two steps toward me. "Your aura's all muddy, brown at the edges. You are not all right." She waved her hands as if to encompass all my not-all-rightness, then pointed to the couch. "Sit. I'm pouring wine. We're eating. Then you're going to tell me what's going on."
    With a heavy sigh, I flopped onto the couch, my head dropping back into the soft cushions as I closed my eyes. Lindsay pressed a glass into my hand and I took an obedient sip of wine before digging into the plate she set before me.
    I ate on autopilot, feeling Lindsay's concerned eyes on me. True to her word, though, she kept the conversation light— talking about classes and her job at a New Age book store— until I pushed my empty plate away and swallowed the last of my wine.
    "Okay," she said, waving her hands in a "come on" gesture. "Spill."
    I collapsed back against the couch and rubbed my hands over my face. "I don't know where to start."
    "Start with Finn."
    I glanced at her from between my fingers. Sometimes I thought Lindsay was a little bit flaky, despite the fact that she was my best friend. Other times, she was startlingly intuitive. I sighed.
    "There's something . . . wrong with Finn."
    She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "Wrong how?"
    I threw up my hands. "I don't know. That's the problem."
    "Okay . . . okay." She got up and moved beside me on the couch, grabbing my hand. "Take a breath and clear your mind, and then tell me what you mean."
    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, my mind flitting over the events of the day.
    "I'm not sure exactly what it is," I said, finally. "There's just been all this strange stuff happening today. I mean, maybe it's nothing and I'm just imagining things." I glanced at Lindsay and she nodded in encouragement.
    "Okay," I said. "It started this morning, after we got back from the airport.” I told her about the phone calls, showed her the Private Number in my call history.
    She examined the phone then handed back. "And you're sure it was Finn."
    "I know his voice, Linds. It was him."
    Lindsay frowned. "But why? Why would he call you from some blocked number and then say he didn't?"
    I collapsed in on myself, clutching my arms across the growing