“Don’t mind Oren.” Xander greeted her. “He mistook you for a threat of the less passive-aggressive variety.”
The sound of Thea’s voice shattered the ice that had frozen Rebecca’s feet to the ground. “Thea. I wanted to call, but my mom took my phone.”
“And someone turned mine off,” Thea said. She looked from Rebecca to me. “While I was in the shower, someone came into my house, into my bedroom, turned off my phone, and left this beside it, with handwritten instructions to bring it here.”
Thea held out an envelope. It was a deep golden color, shining and reflective.
“Someone broke into your house?” I asked, my voice hushed.
“Into your bedroom?” Rebecca was beside Thea in a heartbeat.
Oren took possession of the envelope. He’d set a trap for the courier here, but the message had been delivered elsewhere—to Thea.
Did you see her photos? That video? I asked Toby’s captor silently. Is this what she gets, for helping me?
“I had a guard on your house,” Oren told Thea. “He didn’t report anything unusual.”
I stared at the envelope in Oren’s hand, at my full name written across the front. Avery Kylie Grambs. Something in me snapped, and I snatched the envelope, turning it over to see a wax seal holding it closed.
The design of the seal took my breath away. Rings of concentric circles.
“It’s like the disk,” I said, the words catching in my throat.
“Don’t open it,” Oren told me. “I need to make sure—”
The rest of his words were lost to the roar in my mind. My fingers tore into the envelope, like my body had been set to autopilot at full throttle.
Once I’d broken the seal, the envelope unfolded, revealing a message written on the interior in shining silver script.
3631982.
That was it. Just those seven digits. A phone number? There was no area code, but— “Avery!” Rebecca yelped, and I realized the paper I was holding had caught fire.
Flames devoured the message. I dropped it, and seconds later, the envelope and the numbers were nothing but ashes. “How…” I started to say.
Xander came to stand beside me. “I could rig an envelope to do that.”
He paused. “Honestly? I have rigged an envelope to do that.”
“I told you to wait, Avery.” Oren gave me what I could only describe as a Dad Look. I was clearly on very thin ice with him.
“What did the message say?” Rebecca asked me.
Xander produced a pen and a sheet of paper shaped like a scone, seemingly out of nowhere. “Write down everything you remember,” he told me.
I closed my eyes, picturing the number—and then wrote: 3631982.
I turned the paper around so that Xander could see it. “Nineteen eighty-two.” Xander latched on to the numbers after the dash. “Could be a year.
The three-hundred-and-sixty-third day of which was December twenty-ninth.”
December 29, 1982.
“Looks like a phone number to me,” Thea scoffed.
“That was my first thought, too,” I murmured. “But no area code.”
“Was there anything that could indicate location?” Xander asked. “If we could derive an area code, that would give us a number to call.”
A number to call. A date to check. And who knew how many other possibilities there were? It could be a cipher, coordinates, a bank account…