Seven And A Secret

2:13 Am

The phone rang at 2:13 in the morning.

I remember the exact time because I stared at it for three full rings before I answered.

2:13 A.M.

The numbers glowed white against my nightstand, bright enough to illuminate the half-empty glass of water beside my phone and the silver cross my nonna had brought me from Italy when I was ten.

Nobody called me at two in the morning.

Nobody who had anything good to say, anyway.

My phone stopped.

I let out the breath I'd been holding and dropped my head back onto my pillow.

Probably spam.

Or Luca being an asshole.

That was actually more likely.

He'd been in Chicago for a while now, and apparently moving halfway across the country meant he had forgotten that New York was an hour ahead. Twice that month he'd called after midnight just to tell me something completely useless.

Bro, you know they dye the river green here?

Yeah, Luca. Everybody knows that.

Okay, but did you know how green?

He'd sent me seventeen pictures.

I smiled at the memory.

Then my phone started ringing again.

The smile disappeared.

Same number.

UNKNOWN CALLER.

Something cold settled in my stomach.

I grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

Nothing.

I squinted at the screen.

The call was connected.

"Hello?"

A breath crackled through the speaker.

Then a woman's voice.

"Am I speaking with Matteo?"

I sat up.

Nobody called me Matteo except teachers, my grandparents, and my mother when I'd done something stupid.

"Who's asking?"

"My name is Detective Harris. I'm with the Chicago Police Department."

For a second, I thought it was a joke.

I actually almost laughed.

Because what the hell was a Chicago detective doing calling some seventeen-year-old kid in upstate New York at two in the morning?

Then I remembered Luca.

My feet hit the floor.

"What happened?"

There was a pause.

Tiny.

Barely even a pause.

But I noticed it.

"Matteo, are your parents home?"

My chest tightened.

"What happened?"

"I'd like you to get one of your parents for me."

"Why?"

"Matteo—"