Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

N A T
“K
“Good morning. I left you a cell phone
in the drawer under the microwave in the kitchen. Go get it.”
age!”
For some strange reason, hearing his voice makes me
emotional. Probably because of my history with disappearing
men.
Once you’ve had one of them go permanently missing on
you, even an unannounced trip to the restroom by the next guy
is cause for a panic attack.
Hyperventilating, I grip the phone. “Where are you? Are
you all right? Are you coming back? The police were here—”
“Natalie. Get. The. Phone.”
I can tell from his tone that he’s in no mood for a Q & A.
So I head over to the drawer he said the phone was in. Sure
enough, there it is.
It’s a sleek black thing, folded in half to the size of a credit
card. When I flip it open, the screen lights up.
“What’s the password?”
“Your mother’s birthday.”
That makes me pause. “How do you know my mother’s
birthday?”
“I know everything about you.”
“That’s not possible.”