She dropped the photo before she knew what she was doing. She was aghast in terror, looking at her friend. ‘Jackson, what have they done to you?’ she thought.

  She was trapped in her thoughts for several agonizing minutes before a gentle hand brought her back.

  “…gi. Seulgi. Seulgi – you cannot leave like this. We still need you.” There was an eminently gentle shake to go along with the words. She knew it was gentle as she had seen him put a much rger man through a wall before. He was aiming for a window and missed.

  She patted his hand and looked him in the eye. He started pulling his hand away, but she held it for just a moment. She squeezed his hand and knew that her wordless thanks were accepted.

  She started looking on the ground and table for her phone when it entered her peripheral vision from the upper right. She, again, smiled thanks to her benefactor who handed her the dropped phone.

  She opened her SMS and found the group named Everyone. She typed a simple message to everyone that she knew: Roll Call.

  Everyone involved with what’s going on gave a variation of acknowledgement. A chorus of green checkmarks, thumbs up emojis, Here!’s, and other things came back within an hour. With the notable exception of Jackson.

  With a satisfactory sigh, she fished out the phone to the detective. She called him again and failed again. She frowned at this but knew he was busy.

  Since Roll Call was to literally everyone that she knew her family sent a few more inquisitive answers. She ignored them for now. She’d expin ter.

  She did get one response that she did not expect: Wendy checked in saying that she and the Parents were good. She smiled at this pleasant though unexpected reply.

  Her coterie came by, one by one, to check what was going on. She shooed everyone except Yeji away.

  To her, Seulgi asked, “Do you still have your back string connections?” She got a simple nod in response. “Your cousin is not answering his private line.” Yeji’s eyes opened a fraction. “Find him. It’s important.” Yeji nodded and left the room.

  “Do you think that this was warranted?” asked Bhuwakul

  “I do.” Was his response.

  He simply nodded. He then pointed to the note that was forgotten in her hand. “Are you going to read that, or do you want me to?”

  She shook herself just a little when she noticed the note, still clutched in her hand. It was folded in half, twice. There were two or maybe three sheets. She would find out when she opened the missive. She did notice a trembling in the paper that she was holding. That’s when she found that her hand was far less steady than she thought.

  Bhuwakul very deliberately did not notice this as he was digging around in the box, looking for who knows what. After a moment, he had a very soft, barely heard “Found ya!” Then nothing as he kept poking around. “The hell?” Then quiet again.

  Seulgi was too focused on the unfolded note to hear the quiet excmations. She took the papers, and unfolded them, running a hand across them to ftten them. She smoothed the papers to make them easier to read.

  “Seulgi, you should have listened to me to begin with.” This was the opening sentence. Her riveted attention was absolute. “If you had paid attention to what you were told, this would not have happened. So, whatever happens to this man, is all your fault.”

  The note continued in the vein for quite a while. Bming her ck of attention. Bming her for all the faults in ‘their retionship’. Threats. Entreatments. Bme. Repeating everything again and again through a long rambling narrative about how they should be together and how this man in his hand had gotten in the way. Paranoid delusions were all well and good, when on the TV or a theater screen. Even within a story or book was good enough. But, not when it affects your very good friends.

  Analyzing psychopathy from afar and several steps removed was an interesting pastime. However, when someone whom you care dearly for has their life in the hands of a psychopath, then it becomes considerably less interesting and equally more terrifying.

  She read the letter three times. It didn’t get any better the more she read it.

  She did, however, take pictures of it. She sent the images to Wendy’s mother with a note saying “What do you make of this?”

  She had the niggling in the back of her mind that she had seen this before. It was not less terrifying for being familiar.

  She sent a text to the Big Boss – “Can you come by my office? I have a note from whoever took Jackson.”

  She then called the police department and asked to speak to a detective about an open investigation. After a few moments, she got a human on the line. She announced who she was, who she was looking for, and why. She said that she had some new information. The detective on the other end said that the person she was working with was out of the office, but they could send someone to take a report on the new information.

  Seulgi was less than pleased by talking to someone new but accepted with grace anyway. He said that he’d send someone right away. They disconnected the call.

  Bhuwakul tapped her on the shoulder, making a shushing gesture with his forefinger on his lips. At this, he started talking about how pessimistic he was feeling. That the vilin was too smart, too well prepared. She looked at him, frowning heavily in confusion. He kept on with his depressing tirade, deepening her concern.

  He tugged her hand, pulling her back over while continuing his monolog. She followed, wondering whatever had gotten into him. He brought her back to the box.

  There were four sticky notes on the table next to it. On two of the sticky notes, there were small, bck chips. Above them were two sticky notes with words and arrows pointing to the chips.

  One said ‘GPS bug’. The other said ‘Listening bug.’ There was a fifth sticky note with Bhuwakul’s distinct writing showing: He’s listening.