I fight to keep my face straight.
“I doubt it,” I say. “I’d say someone just dropped it off so I could see it when I left today. Thank you for letting me know.”
She squints at me, as though trying to figure out whether or not I’m being sincere. I give her my sweetest smile, hoping that I look innocent enough.
Eventually, she huffs and turns away.
“Tell your friends not to litter!” she shouts over her shoulder as she hobbles off.
“I’ll let them know!” I call to her.
Shaking my head, I move back into the apartment, turning the envelope over in my hands curiously. As soon as he hears the door shut, Kyle comes out of the bedroom.
“Who was that?” he asks, frowning.
“Mrs. Phillips,” I repeat with a grin. “Dealing with her is always an experience.”
“You don’t say,” he says dryly. “And what was that about motorcycle riff-raff and bastards knocking on your door?”
“First, the bastard knocking on my door was you,” I say, and he grins. “Second, Mrs. Phillips is very traditional and set in her ways, so I wouldn’t listen too much. At least you know your bike survived the night.”
“It was locked down so tightly, I’d be more impressed if it wasn’t there,” Kyle says with a laugh. He glances at the envelope I’m carrying. “What’s that?”
“No idea,” I say with a shrug. “Mrs. Phillips actually came to tell me that it was at my door. Looks like someone dropped it. Maybe Jacqui, though I don’t know why she didn’t message me to tell me she’d dropped it.”
“Well, you won’t get anywhere by not opening it,” Kyle points out. “Let’s see what’s in it.”
I shake the envelope. It feels flimsy. Frowning, I rip it open and peer inside.
“Photographs?” I mutter, confused.
Kyle looks as puzzled as I am. I overturn the envelope and allow the photos to fall onto the table. Some of them are glossy and new, I notice, as though they’ve only just been printed out. Others are a little older.
“Is that you?” Kyle asks, pointing to one.
“Yeah, it’s…” I say, picking it up.
I trail off. I can feel my face draining of color as I stare at the glossy photo, barely able to believe what I’m seeing. Kyle, who’s staring at it from the back, gapes.
“It has two holes in it,” he points out unnecessarily.
With a shaking hand, I pass the photo. It’s immediately clear what’s causing me distress; the photo is one of me and my family and, in it, someone has poked out my eyes in my photo.
“Fuck,” Kyle swears.
He quickly goes through the photos. There’s photos of me and Jesse, some of me with my friends, quite a few with me and Jacqui. A lot of them I recognize from my social media site, which means the culprit accessed my page and downloaded several of my photos just to print them out.
All of them have the eyes poked out on my photo counterparts.
“What the fuck?” Kyle snarls. “Who…?” He stops. His expression darkens. “Jesse.”
I don’t want it to be true. But I can’t deny that it was likely him. There are several photos here that I left behind at the apartment because Jesse asked to keep them. Now they’re here, on my table, mutilated beyond repair.
“Why would he do this?” I ask, turning beseeching eyes on Kyle.
He looks back helplessly. He has no more idea than I do.
Chapter Fifteen