Wait? Who Are You?

Monday morning arrived whether I liked it or not.

I hadn’t slept. Not really. I drifted. Woke. Counted imaginary cows. Tried sheep. Thought about goats. Regretted thinking about goats.

Mondays were usually easy. No cubicle. No deadlines. Coffee and quiet and the luxury of not being needed.

Not today.

Today, I had somewhere to be.

I loaded Sasha into the Jeep and poured a thermos of Alpha coffee. She circled twice in the back seat before settling in like she owned the place. I pulled up to the curb near the school. Far enough away not to draw attention, close enough to see faces.

I didn’t park in the lot.

I didn’t want to be noticed.

I wanted to notice.

Custodians came first. Then teachers. Then the slow flood of parents and kids. Backpacks, chatter, engines idling too long. I watched every face that passed. Looked for hesitation. For someone who didn’t belong.

Everyone belonged.

Or they were very good at pretending.

A couple of kids waved at Sasha. She perked up, gave a soft bark. I lifted a hand back, watching the parents more than the kids. Waiting for someone to look twice.

Someone did.

That was enough.

I checked the mirrors. Adjusted in my seat.

Too exposed.

I should have locked the doors.

The passenger door opened.

“Hello, Bodhi. Hey, Sasha.”

I turned too fast. Jessica slid into the seat like she’d always been there.

Sasha froze mid-bark.

“What are you doing here?” I said.

She leaned back, relaxed, like we were meeting for coffee instead of whatever this was. “Checking on you.”

“Checking—”

She grabbed my face and kissed me.

It was quick. Warm. Deliberate.

And completely wrong.

I shoved her back. “Jessica—what the hell—”

She laughed. Not embarrassed. Not apologetic. Just… amused.

“I always wondered what that would be like,” she said. “You make everything sound romantic.”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Get out.”

“Relax,” she said, glancing past me through the windshield. “You’re being watched, you know.”

The words didn’t land right away.

I glanced in the rearview. Empty street. Side mirrors. Nothing moving.

“By who?”

She shrugged. “People like me.”

My stomach tightened. “People like you.”

“Or not,” she added lightly. “Hard to say.”

I stared at her.

She smiled wider.

“Relax,” she said. “You’re in danger. But if it was me? You’d never see it coming.”

Sasha gave a low growl from the back seat.

Jessica glanced over her shoulder. “Hey, sweetheart.”

She reached out to scratch Sasha behind one ear. Sasha moved away.

Good dog.

“What do you want?” I asked.

Jessica studied me for a moment. Really studied me this time. Then she nodded, like she’d made a decision.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll stop playing.”

I didn’t believe her.

“You’re looking for the woman who paid Ryan,” she said.

I didn’t answer.

She pointed at herself with both thumbs. “Congratulations. You found her.”

Silence filled the Jeep.

“You,” I said.

“Me.”

“You gave him the note?”

“Five dollars and a folded piece of paper.”

“Why?”

She tilted her head, like the question bored her. “Money.”

“Who’s paying you?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Not really. No names. No faces that matter.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“It is for me.” She shrugged. “They pay. I watch. I report.”

“Report what?”

“You,” she said simply.

The word sat there between us.

“What about me?”

“Everything.” She tapped her temple. “Where you go. Who you talk to. What you’re thinking.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

Her smile flickered. “You’d be surprised.”

I gripped the steering wheel. “Why?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she looked at me again. Longer this time. Something shifted. The smile faded.

“You don’t know,” she said.

I frowned. “Know what?”

And then she laughed. Not playful. Not teasing. Sharp.

“You really don’t know.”

“Jessica—”

“They told me you were clueless, but I didn’t think—” She shook her head, laughing harder now. “Oh my God. This is delicious!”

My chest tightened. “Didn’t think what?”

“You married her,” she said.

The words hit harder than they should have.

“Yes.”

“For love?” she asked.

I didn’t answer.

Her amusement sharpened.

“You married her for love,” she repeated, like she had finally understood the joke.

“You don’t even know what she is.”

The world narrowed.

“What she is?” I said.

Jessica studied me, her amusement fading. “Wow. Poor Bodhi.”

“Stop.”

“All heart,” she said. “No clue.”

“Jessica.”

“You don’t even know,” she said again, softer now, almost to herself. “You don’t even know.”

Silence pressed in.

“What do they want with her?” I asked.

That got her attention.

She looked at me like she was deciding something.

“I think,” she said slowly, “they have a very good idea where she is.”

My pulse kicked.

“Where?”

She smiled again.

Gone.

“Not my problem anymore.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m done,” she said. “They paid. Job’s over. You’re somebody else’s problem now.”

“Done?” I repeated.

She nodded. “Done.”

“You don’t just walk away from something like this.”

“I do.”

“How?”

She reached into her jacket. Pulled out a Glock. Held it low. Casual. Like it belonged there.

Sasha’s growl deepened.

I lifted my hands without thinking.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jessica said. “Not unless someone asks me to.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” she said. “It’s supposed to make you listen.”

I did.

“You’re in over your head,” she said. “Whatever this is between them and your wife—you’re not built for it.”

“What is this thing between them?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you know?”

She held my gaze.

“They’re watching you,” she said. “All of them. Anyone who might help you? They’ll be gone soon.”

“Sam?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

My grip tightened.

“They’re going to turn this place against you,” she went on. “Piece by piece.”

“How?”

A small smile. “You’ll see. In fact, it’s already started.”

She reached for the door, then paused.

“Oh,” she said. “One more thing.”

I didn’t move. My stomach had started to tangle itself into knots.

“I’ve been in your room while you slept.”

My eyes went wide. My hand twitched toward the floor as if I might shove her out.

She only smiled, slow and knowing, as if she were reading the exact thought I didn’t want her to.

“I… you—” I swallowed. “You what?”

“Relax,” she said, tilting her head. “Nothing weird. Just… observing.”

“Observing?” I echoed, voice squeaky. “Like… like some kind of… spy?”

“Maybe.” Her lips quirked. “Or maybe I just like knowing where you hide your bad dreams.”

I blinked at her. This wasn’t helping. My stomach felt like a rolle rcoaster stuck upside down.

She leaned a fraction closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You can call me Luna.”

“What?” My voice cracked like a twig.

“My name,” she said. “If you need one.”

“That’s not your name.”

She shrugged, the corners of her mouth dancing. “Moon goddess. Might fit, don’t you think?”

A beat. Then she smirked like she’d been waiting for my reaction. “The boys at the Farm would love that.”

There it was again.

Farm.

Before I could ask—

“Time to go,” she said.

She stepped out of the Jeep.

I turned, watching her cross the street.

A black Mercedes idled at the curb. Windows tinted dark. The rear door opened before she reached it.

She slid inside.

The car pulled away.

Gone.

Just like that.

I sat there, hands still half-raised, trying to catch up to what had just happened.

You don’t even know what she is.

The words wouldn’t leave.

A knock on the window.

I flinched.

Principal Evans stood beside the Jeep, one hand resting lightly on the door, the other gripping a walkie-talkie a little too tight.

I lowered the window.

“Mr. Lewis,” she said. Her voice was calm. Measured.

Her eyes weren’t.

“Good morning,” I said.

“What are you doing here?”

“Walking Sasha,” I said. “Thought we’d take the trails.”

Her gaze flicked past me. To the empty street. Back again.

“I see.”

She didn’t.

“Well, I’m glad I caught you. I was planning on emailing you later, but we can do this now.”

I frowned. “What’s going on?”

She smiled just enough to feel rehearsed.

“While we appreciate everything you’ve done for the children,” she said, like she was reading from a carefully polished script, “in light of recent… concerns, we’re going to suspend your visits. Effective immediately.”

I blinked, trying to process. “Suspend… visits? What concerns?”

She tilted her head, her expression carefully composed. “That’s not for discussion right now. The important part is compliance. We’re directing you to stay off school property while the review is pending.”

My throat went dry. “You can’t just—”

“If necessary, we can issue a formal trespass notice,” she interrupted softly. “I would hate to involve Captain Henderson.”

Suspended. I couldn’t believe it.

“Also,” she added, “your books’ continued use in our classrooms and library is under review.”

There it was. Clean. Polite. Final.

I nodded once. “Understood.”

Her grip on the walkie tightened until her knuckles whitened.

“You should leave,” she said. Not unkind. Not firm. Just… necessary.

I started the engine, my hands slightly trembling on the wheel.

“Principal Evans,” I said.

She hesitated, just a fraction of a second too long.

“If anyone comes asking about me, tell them I’m coming for them.”

Something flickered across her face. Fear? Maybe. Gone almost as quickly as it came.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

“Exactly.”

I put the Jeep in gear and pulled away from the curb.

In the rearview mirror, she raised the walkie to her mouth. Talking. Reporting. Watching.

Jessica was right. They weren’t hiding anymore. And neither was I.