Read previous installments of Myra here.

Myra looked down at the screen of her cell phone. As frightening as the messages were, she was expecting them now.

Another message popped up.

“The police left such a mess, no?”

Myra got to her feet and left the bathroom. When she arrived in the living room, she noticed remnants of the investigation. Evidence markers on the floor. Scuff marks from investigator boots. Black powder on the walls and furniture, which she assumed to be for lifting fingerprints. For a few seconds, she was annoyed that the authorities were so messy. The cops hadn’t officially released the apartment back to her, but it was obvious they were finished. Myra assumed they had no news for her since no one contacted her. She and Jeanie would be a cold case in no time.

Poor Jeanie. Was anyone even looking for her?

The phone pinged in her hand.

“Jeanie is okay, Myra.”

Myra’s forehead creased as she stared at her device. He wasn’t just watching her. It was if he were reading her mind.

“This is impossible,” Myra whispered to herself.

She heard beeping that seemed to move in time with her pulse. She caught a whiff of cleaning agents, and her mind flashed. She saw herself in a bed looking up at stark fluorescent lights.

Myra shook her head, and the image cleared. The beeping was also gone, and she only smelled the vanilla candle sitting on the end table near the couch. Jeanie put the waxy pillar there just last week, and Myra commented how strong the candle was without even being lit.

“It’s okay,” Jeanie said. “College kids are smelly. This will mask everything.”

Myra laughed at the memory, and soon tears filled her eyes. Why hadn’t anyone mentioned Jeanie?

After dialing the police station and sitting on hold for five minutes, an officer finally picked up the phone.

“Officer Tamblyn.”

“Hi,” Myra stuttered. “My name is Myra Lansing. I’m the girl whose apartment was recently broken…”

“Yes, Ms. Lansing,” the officer cut in. “I know your case. How can I help you?”

“Is there any news on my roommate? Jeanie?”

The officer was quiet for what seemed to Myra uncomfortably long.

“Ms. Lansing,” he began slowly. “There is no trace of your roommate.”

“What do you mean?”

Officer Tamblyn cleared his throat and said, “There is no evidence you had a roommate.”