Unlocked!

There had been nothing on the coffee table earlier, so Caleb knew that the iPhone had to belong to Mrs Dawson, his 11 am singing student.

He always put singing in inverted commas with her.

He was surprised a modern phone would be hers. Surprised she left it too. She was as cold and controlled as she was delusional about her voice.

He reached out to pick it up, but hesitated as the phone screen lit with an incoming message.

No name, just a phone number and the words, “THIS PHONE IS UNLOCKED“.

Caleb glance towards the window, wondering if he was being watched, if somebody had seen him look at the phone and had been ready to send the message. But he was barely overlooked by any other building and, more significantly, who would spy on him?

Nobody.

He swiped his finger on the screen, as much as anything, he told himself, to test the message.

It unlocked.

A jolt of adrenaline shot through him, strong enough to make him momentarily unsteady. But not because the phone was unlocked, but because of the picture it revealed.

Unmistakably Mrs. Dawson.

But thirty plus years ago.

Her hair had been dark then, and she’d been plumper, curvy with big eyes and a broad smile. In this picture she exuded warmth.

Joy even.

So different to now, but Mrs Dawson nonetheless.

Caleb dropped the phone, watched it tumble to the coffee table, then bounce and hit the laminate floor.

How could it be? How had he never known?

Nausea came slowly at first, swirling in his gut. Then rising. Constricting his throat so tightly that he was surprised to hear himself groan.

He fumbled for his own phone then dialled and told the call handler, “I need the police.“