Sherlock Holmes last night." May wrinkled her nose. "I don't like that Holmes smokes, though. Daddy says that smoking is bad."
"Hopefully I can solve your mystery." Will smiled. It wouldn't be too hard. Even with his mediocre knowledge of electronics, he already had a few ideas about figuring out who was calling, and why.
"You'll have the opportunity to look for clues soon enough.” Mr. Torrey's voice, however, contained no trace of amusement. He glanced at the round Roman numeral clock mounted on the wall. "It's almost seven."
"Then let's get to business.” Will pulled out his tablet and selected Notepad. "So the same person calls at the same time every day?"
"Yes." Mr. Torrey gestured to the phone, which sat on the lamp table. “As soon as the clock strikes seven, he calls."
All right. Maybe the call was automatic. He tapped the information into the file. "Is it a human voice?"
"Yes. Male. And the messages are always the same, but the man says them differently sometimes."
Will grunted. "So that means it's probably a real-time call."
"He calls , but he always leaves a message."
Will frowned. “What do you—”
Beeeeeeep. Beeeeeeep.
The phone? Will shivered. They could stand changing the ringtone—it sounded like a pulse going flat in a hospital room.
Will picked up the phone. "Unknown caller" scrolled across the screen. "May I answer?"
Mr. Torrey nodded, his face pale and his lips pressed firmly together.
Will raised it to his ear, pressing the green call button, but as soon as he did the line went dead.
"Why—" he started, but then the phone beeped.
He pulled the phone away from his ear. “New voice message” blinked on the screen. Will had answered the phone, so how had the caller managed to end the call and still leave a message?
“Like I said...he always leaves a message.” Mr. Torrey ran a hand through his hair. “I don't know how he does it.”
Will frowned. "May I listen to it? I mean, if it's all right with May in here."
"It's nothing she hasn't heard before. Play it." Will could hear fear in his voice, but as he glanced back at Mr. Torrey, he caught something else, too, in his severe eyebrows and set jaw.
Fortitude. Good for them.
Will pressed the call button.
The voice that vibrated from the speaker was low, scratchy, and unmistakably male. A slightly hysterical note rang in the words, as if the man was high-strung and emotional.
"I'll find you. Oh, I'll find you, and I'll dance in your blood. I'll get you. You'll get it, and you can't escape, not ever, because I'll always find you. I'll finish what I started. You can't hide. Because I'm coming."
The phone beeped. Then, silence.
Will glared at the receiver. If this was a joke, then the person on the other line was a good actor and had a morbid sense of humor. And something about that voice bothered him. He couldn't place it, but something felt wrong about it, almost maniacal. And yet...vaguely familiar.
"What do you think?"
Will met Mr. Torrey's brown eyes. There was fear there, still, but anger as well, anger that reflected Will's.
"I'm going to find whatever sick person made this call and make sure they can't do anything to you.” Will tossed the phone onto the side table. "Be sure of it, you and your family are safe with me."
Protect the weak, uphold justice. The vow he had taken the day he had become an ASP operative. Now it was time to fulfill his vow...and make up for the times he had failed. But he couldn't think about that failure. Shouldn't.
"Thank you.” Mr. Torrey let out a long breath. "Thank you."
There was a moment of silence, and then Mrs. Torrey changed the subject. "Do you need anything, Mr. Vullerman? I have food ready, if you're hungry. There's extra, since May decided she didn't like meatballs and voted on leftovers instead. If not, I made up the bed in the guest room."
Will shook his head. "I need some time to think, if that's all right. I ate supper on my way here."
Mrs. Torrey nodded. "Of course.