Deep Sleep (Devin Gray #1)(21)

The sleeplessness had to be a big part of why he felt as though he could take a twenty-four-hour nap. It hadn’t been the stare-at-the-ceiling-all-night variety. That would have been too easy. He’d drifted in and out all night, thinking he’d never fallen asleep, his brain racing to make sense of the facts one moment and wrapping itself around some vaguely connected reality the next. Nine straight nights of this, with no end in sight.

He’d dropped his sister at the airport a few hours ago and grabbed some takeout from a nearby Mexican restaurant, hoping to eat himself into a coma. Maybe just the act of sending Kari home would break up whatever dynamic his mind had established over the past several days. Same with taking a short hiatus from his dad. Devin had told Mason that he’d swing by over the weekend, lying to him about needing to put in some face time at work. He’d never brought up the fourteen-day forced vacation triggered by the hotel job. As far as his dad knew, he was on bereavement leave.

He just needed a few days away from Falls Church. A little space from ground zero to recalibrate. The dark circles under his eyes told him a big part of his recalibration would involve sleep—or trying. A burrito the size of his forearm and the cheese quesadilla sitting in his stomach wagered he’d be out as soon as he went horizontal. Devin wasn’t so sure.

He turned the light off and shuffled out of the bathroom to his unmade bed. Hadn’t some famous Navy SEAL said something about making your bed if you wanted to change the world? Looked like the world would have to wait a few days. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and let his house sandals fall to the carpet before grabbing his phone off the nightstand. More out of habit than anything else, he activated the home screen to see if he had any messages.

He’d been texting back and forth with Marnie Young over the past few days, throwing around the idea of grabbing a drink or coffee when everything with his mom settled down. She’d just recently left the Marine Corps after fifteen years and was temporarily living at home in Falls Church with her parents—until she landed a job in DC.

She was looking for something on Capitol Hill, which could springboard her into politics or a policy position. Her backup plan was to join the fairly large pool of the recently departed or retired officers working senior positions in the civilian side of the Department of Defense—in or as close to the Beltway as possible. She didn’t want to shut the door on Capitol Hill.

The screen showed one text message, from a number he didn’t recognize. Actually, it was three numbers and a dash, followed by two numbers. Spam or some kind of automatic message update from something he’d mistakenly opted into previously. Nothing from Marnie. He was about to activate the Do Not Disturb feature and put the phone back on the nightstand when he caught a line of the text.

Respond with first movie you saw in the theaters and the first and last name of your first prom date. No spaces. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.

What the hell? The last line was something his mom had said a lot throughout his childhood. They’d watched Star Wars as a family at least a hundred times when he was little, and she’d teased him with that line whenever it was time to do chores or she’d needed him to do something.

Intrigued, he typed HomeAloneEricaCohen and pressed send, surprised by how easily the information from his past had come to him. Now what? The phone buzzed in his hand, startling him. The number calling read Unknown. Seriously? Telemarketing shenanigans had just graduated to the next level. Somehow, they had linked him to one of his mom’s old sayings. Probably something she’d submitted as a challenge question online and was subsequently sold to some data-collection outfit.

But what if this was something else?

Devin accepted the call. Why not? He could always hang up if it was indeed a new telemarketer.

“Hello?” he said.

His mother’s voice answered.

“Devin. If you’re hearing this, something has gone seriously wrong. You’ve either already attended my funeral or I’ve been missing for several days. I triggered this messaging protocol ten days ago, in response to what I either perceived as an imminent, nonsurvivable threat against my life or an attempted kidnapping. Funeral or missing, I’m gone. These people don’t leave witnesses.”

A short pause ensued, followed by: “I need to verify your voice now. After the beep, please tell me the make and model of the car we bought you in high school and then say, ‘I’m really not interested in a new car. Please take me off your list.’”

What the hell? “Honda Civic. I’m not interested in a new car. Please take me off your list.”

The call disconnected. No. No. No. Wait. Did he say something wrong? Shit. He’d forgotten to say “really interested.” Did he really just mess up? A text message appeared a moment later.

Use headphones and click this link. https://dfe740-22GW3.

Interesting. She thought someone might be listening. He got up from the bed and made his way to the kitchen island, where he kept his running headphones in one of the drawers. With the headphones ready, he poured a glass of water to make his trip to the kitchen appear more natural to an outside observer. If they had cameras in his house, it wouldn’t matter. He’d have to sweep for surveillance devices later. On his way back to the bedroom, he clicked the link, which connected him to a voice message.

“Dial or say two at any time if you’re under duress.” A long pause ensued before his mother’s voice continued. “Devin. Sorry to keep this abrupt. I need you to see what I’ve been working on for the past twenty years. I’m not trying to make up for what I put all of you through. I can never do that. Take a look and decide for yourself what should be done with it. To continue this message, input the numeric digits corresponding to the year we took you to see your first Orioles game.”