Chapter 7
Hall to garage cold. Bare bulb buzzed overhead. Paint chipped on doorframe where handle had been yanked too many times. I stood with back against utility wall, Zora two feet ahead, both breathing hard. Car sat beyond interior garage door, dark shape under dim window. Gas tank full last time I checked. Garage door closed. Street still cordoned outside, red light bleeding faint through frosted glass at far end of house.
Zora held her phone low, screen dimmed, green EXEMPT bar glowing against her palm. My phone burned in my pocket. Red SELECTED. Red record dot pulsing even with screen off, heat against my thigh.
"We take them or leave them," Zora whispered. She didn't look at me. Eyes on garage door. "Need intel if they ping again. Need invisibility if phones track."
I pulled my phone out. Screen lit. FINAL NOTICE. NYLA BANKS SELECTED. Red button, red icon. No new text, but dot kept recording. "This thing knows where I am. Left it on counter last night and map still found me."
"Then leave it," she said. "Test it. Leave it inside while I check garage. See if quiet follows us or stays with phone."
My hand tightened around gold bracelet. Clasp cold. "Leave phone here means no warning. No updates. Blind."
"Keep phone means beacon," Zora said. Voice clipped. Protective, tense. "They already said selected subject located. That came through speaker, not just screen. Phone heard us."
I remembered entryway, two-shot frozen, voice saying continuity response. Remembered Zora's phone showing green while mine showed red. Difference split us. I didn't want split wider.
"Thirty seconds," I said. "Leave mine on washer. You take yours. Crack garage door. Don't open big door. Just see car, see side window, see if signal changes."
Zora nodded once. Short. Reddish tint in her dark hair caught bulb light.
I set phone on top of dryer. Screen up. Red glow reflected on white metal. Looked wrong leaving it. Like leaving part of me. I stepped back. Felt lighter, then immediately more exposed. Pocket empty, hand empty, but chest still tight. Anxiety not from phone, from being without it and still being selected.
Zora moved to interior garage door. Old wood, dark frame, frosted panel at top like entry doors but smaller, dustier. She held her EXEMPT phone against lock pad. House had retrofit smart lock there, keypad dead for years, but green phone made it chirp. Small sound. Not loud. I held breath.
Screen on her phone flickered. ZORA BANKS EXEMPT expanded, green indicator pulsed, then keypad lit amber then green. Click. Lock released.
Zora didn't open door right away. She kept palm on handle, listened. Garage side silent. No SUV engine. No footsteps. She cracked door one inch. Cold air slipped out, smelled like concrete, gasoline, old cardboard. Dim light from garage window fell across her boots.
I stayed by dryer, three steps back from my phone. Red light still pulsed on dryer, unattended. No siren followed separation. No new voice shouted location. Quiet held. That meant tracking not instant, or not phone-only.
Zora glanced back at me. Whispered, "Stay there. Count to twenty. If my screen stays green and quiet, we know distance matters. If yours lights up alone, we know phone stays anchor."
I nodded. Counted in head. One, two, three. Natural breathing loud. Gold pendant rested against black zip top, cold. Olive cargo pants brushed washer as I shifted weight.
On dryer, my phone buzzed once. Not ring. Short vibration. Screen brightened on its own. No new message, but red record icon grew slightly, then shrank. Like it noticed absence.
Zora saw it too. Her eyes narrowed. Micro-expression, quick. Fear, then control.
"Still here," I whispered. Lie small. I was not still. I wanted phone back.
"Stay," Zora mouthed. She eased interior garage door wider, slipped shoulder through, EXEMPT phone held forward like shield. Garage interior revealed slowly: workbench against far wall, car parked nose to closed garage door, side window dark, utility hall connecting. No person inside. But car dashboard had faint glow, like system waiting for door open signal.
Zora stepped fully into garage threshold, one foot in hall, one in garage. She kept door from closing, body blocking gap. She lifted phone higher, letting green light wash wood. Lock stayed green. No alert.
I stood separated. Phone on dryer behind me, sister in garage ahead, empty pocket between. Detection risk clarified: phone tracked but not only thing. Distance helped, but selection stayed on me, not device. Leaving phone didn't make me exempt.
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Zora turned head back, voice barely audible, "Garage clear. Come on my count, bring phone or leave it?"
I stared at red glow on dryer, then at her green glow in doorway. Choice hung there, door half open, car waiting beyond, garage door still closed.
