Story code: ST-000282
Part 3: The Name On His Screen
I was halfway across the parking lane when my phone buzzed in my hand. I thought it was my sister, because her name had been the only thing Derek had managed to hang in the air over me. Instead, it was a missed call from Tessa, followed by a text that said, Call me back. Please. I stopped beside my car and stared at it long enough for a cart to rattle past my ankle.
I did not call her back.
Lena was still near the cart return, talking quietly to one of the other employees while she watched the lot out of the corner of her eye. Derek had gone to the far end of the lane with the officers, but he kept turning back toward me as if he expected me to stay where he had put me.
The woman officer came over first. “We need a clearer timeline,” she said.
“So do I,” I said.
She nodded once, like she was saving that for later, and lowered her voice. “He says he got the complaint through someone who knew your routine.”
“My routine?”
“That’s what he said.”
I looked past her and saw Derek unlock his phone. He held it low near his chest, thumb moving fast. Not hidden exactly, but not offered either. The bodycam on his shirt still blinked. When he lifted his screen, I caught a flash of a text thread before he angled it away: Tessa.
My mouth went dry. “Show me that.”
Derek’s hand closed around the phone. “No.”
“You just used my sister’s name in this.”
“I used the contact who provided information.”
The officer beside him said, “Mr. Harlan, slow down and answer directly.”
He did not answer her. He looked at me instead. “Ask your family what they shared.”
That was the first time I heard my own breathing turn sharp enough to hurt.
Lena came closer, stopping at a distance where she could still back away if she wanted to. “I saw him on the side of the lot before he came up to her,” she said. “He was looking at his phone.”
The woman officer turned. “Did you see who he was texting?”
Lena shook her head. “No, ma’am. Just the screen glow.”
Derek’s jaw jumped once. It was small, but I saw it.
I asked, “Did he say anything to you before he came over?”
Lena looked at me, then at the officers. “He asked if I knew whose car it was. Then he asked if I worked with her. He said the name Mara Ellis before he reached the door.”
Before he reached the door.
That was enough to make the shape of it clearer, not the whole thing, but the shape. He had not stumbled onto me. He had come in carrying my name and my sister’s in the same hand.
The male officer asked Derek, “Did you get the vehicle information before contact?”
Derek said, “I had enough to make contact.”
“From who?”
He shook his head once. “Not on the parking lot.”
The woman officer looked at me, then at the bodycam on Derek’s chest. “Do you want to make a statement now, or do you want space?”
Space sounded better than being handled by everybody in public. I said, “I want him away from my car.”
She told Derek to step back. He did, but only after a long pause that made it look like he had to decide whether to do it.
I opened my passenger door, reached across, and pulled my phone cable free. My hands were steady until I saw Tessa’s name still on the screen. Then they weren’t. I locked the phone and slid it into my pocket like it had burned me.
When I looked up again, Derek was still watching. The officers were listening to him, or pretending to. Lena had gone back to the carts. My car was finally mine again, but not cleanly.
As I got in, Tessa called a second time. I let it ring out.
Then I saw the text preview from her on the lock screen: Don’t tell him I used your code.
I sat very still with my hand on the door and knew this had already gotten inside my family line.