The closeness of the rumor changed the atmosphere between the four of them.
It was no longer the same to talk about an alley in Trenton as it was to talk about balloons seen near the road toward Morristown. The distance had shortened, and with it, so had the sense of security they got from thinking everything was happening "somewhere else."
Vivian noticed it Saturday morning, when Brittany arrived at her house with the notebook under her arm and the same look of someone who hadn't slept well.
—Ana called last night —Brittany said as she walked in—.
She's more tense. She says that if this keeps getting closer, she doesn't know how much longer she'll be able to hold out without wanting to leave completely.
Vivian closed the door carefully.
—And Madeleine?
—Quieter than usual.
But she's just as nervous. She just hides it better.
They sat in the living room. The large notebook was still on the table, open to the page where they had written down the balloon sighting. The ink no longer looked as fresh, and yet none of them dared turn the page as if the matter had been resolved.
—We can't keep just writing things down —Brittany said—.
Every time something happens, we write it down, talk about it, and then stay still.
And the whole thing keeps getting closer anyway.
Vivian rested her elbows on her knees.
—If we make the wrong move, Ana shuts down.
And if Ana shuts down, the group falls apart.
—I know.
But staying still also feels like a way of losing.
For a while, neither of them said anything. Outside, they could hear a distant lawn mower and the sound of a car passing by. Normal life. Far too normal for what they were carrying.
Finally, Vivian spoke:
—We still don't go looking for anything.
But we can't pretend this is still far away.
If another sign appears in Morris… we talk about it seriously.
All four of us.
No beating around the bush.
Brittany nodded, although she didn't look completely satisfied.
—Okay.
A little longer.
But we can already see the edge.
---
Ryan noticed it too.
He had stopped going up to the rooftops every day. There was no need. From what he had heard and seen the previous week, he already knew the girls were exactly where he wanted them: scared enough not to do something stupid, and restless enough that they couldn't let the subject go.
Now the problem was something else.
How to enter?
He sat at his desk, opened his notebook, and went over the two options he had left uncrossed.
The first: a letter.
A balloon.
Something that would announce, without forcing them, that he wanted to talk.
The second: a controlled appearance from a distance.
Enough for them to see him.
Enough to say two or three sentences.
And then disappear before fear completely closed them off.
He looked again at the idea he had already discarded—appearing inside a room—and felt no temptation to bring it back. It was still a bad entrance. Too invasive. It would push them into panic instead of conversation.
Ryan leaned back in his chair.
If he chose the letter, he could bring back the tone from when he had "hired" them. He could afford a certain amount of irony. A certain distance. Even a twisted kind of kindness.
If he chose to appear, the impact would be greater… but also harder to control.
He wrote underneath:
Priority: don't let them close themselves off.
Measure before pushing.
Don't solve the mystery for them.
Just open the door.
Then he closed the notebook and stared at the dark computer screen.
Nexum was still running. The ranking was generating enough income. There were no emergencies.
For the first time in a while, the matter of the girls wasn't competing with another crisis.
He could prepare it properly.
---
That afternoon, Vivian managed to talk to Ana on the phone.
The conversation was short and tense.
—Don't ask me to calm down —Ana said—.
When this was in another county, I could pretend it didn't concern me.
Now it does.
—No one is asking you to go anywhere —Vivian replied—.
Just don't disappear from the group.
Ana was silent for a moment.
—I'm here.
For now.
But if this gets worse, I'm going to reconsider.
When they hung up, Vivian stared at her phone. Brittany, who had been listening from the other side of the room, simply said:
—At least she didn't leave.
—Not yet.
---
Ryan spent the night mentally rehearsing the tone.
Not the exact words.
The tone.
Too mocking, and it would seem like he was laughing at them.
Too serious, and he would scare them without gaining anything.
Too familiar, and he would lose the distance he still needed to maintain.
In the end, he wrote three possible lines on a loose sheet of paper, just to see how they felt:
I already know you're looking for me.
I'm not here to hurt you.
Yet.
He stared at them for a while and then crossed them out.
Too direct.
Too soon.
He left it as something more open. More like an invitation than a threat.
He didn't send anything that night.
He didn't appear on any rooftop in front of them.
He simply prepared the ground in his mind and in his notebook.
Because if he was going to enter,
he wanted to do it right.
---
The next day at school, Brittany approached Vivian's locker in a low voice:
—Madeleine sent a message.
She says nothing new happened around her area.
But she's just as uneasy.
Vivian closed her locker.
—Then we're still in the same place.
Closer.
No answers.
And unable to move completely.
Brittany leaned her back against the lockers.
—I hate this part.
—Me too.
---
That night, Ryan closed the notebook with the feeling that the next move could no longer be delayed much longer.
The girls were on the edge.
So was he.
All that remained was to decide
whether the first piece he moved
would be a letter
or a silhouette
at a distance.
He smiled faintly in the darkness.
—Before entering…
let them feel the weight a little longer.
He turned off the light.
Outside, Morris County remained silent.
But no one anymore,
neither the girls nor him,
truly believed
that silence
was going to last much longer.