Mini EPISODE 4.5 Rebecca/Paul
Rebecca: Hey there, it’s Rebecca. If you’re like me, you run on coffee and broken dreams. So if you’re on your way to a café right now, take a moment. Subscribe to us on iTunes and maybe leave a rating and it’d be super awesome if you’d leave a review.
I am sitting in a cafe not far from my house on Broadway getting my shit together. The paper’s scrawled out chicken scratch in front of me. It doesn’t live up to Lyanna’s organizational standards but I am just trying to get things in order. Peet’s is filled with the usual 60 year old hippie crowd busy solving the world’s problems, or at least talking about tit and how someone has got to do something. The staff is a third their age and nods politely as people order the same drink they’ve been getting for the last 20 years. My favorite patron is just a couple of seats over. She’s 60 but looks 50 at most and dresses like Meryl Streep in Devil Wears Prada. Just with a little more aquanet keeping her sleek hair in place. I’m next to the window at one of the small tables that people could share if they were friendly but they usually hog them all for themselves. Sprawling Apple cords and books and scones all over the whole thing claiming their territory.
The man outside the window shakes me from my social venting when I see him staring in. Right at me. I look down at my papers like any self-respecting socially adept person would do in an awkward situation. Oh shit, now he’s holding a paper to the glass. I read it.
“Rebecca we need to talk. Not here.” My pulse jumps in my neck and I can feel the thump of my heart deepen. It’s like he can hear me thinking ‘why not here?’ He holds up another paper he scratched out quickly and nearly illegibly: “They are framing you.” I look into his eyes for a moment and sense the urgency. Maybe even some trust? I pack up my papers and leave the tiny table for the next coffee goer who has been vulturing around for the last five minutes.
I grab my shoulder bag and head for the door. As I walk out, this guy, he sweeps up beside me and gently but assertively holds my arm and guides me around the corner. Usually I would have reached for my mace by now and unlocked the safety on the thing but the desperation is real at this point. No, it’s really real. I have nowhere else to turn, so why not this random dude writing creepy notes in the coffee window? Seems a better chance than my random Reddit plea for help. God, I’m a wreck. We are walking towards a van and he must feel me tense up because he says:
Paul: No, not going to the van, don’t worry we just need to book it around the block, there’s this little art shop on the other side.
Rebecca: I know the one. And I ease up. I’ve only been in there once before but it seems pretty chill. We hurry to the front door underneath an old awning from when it used to be a cigarette shop. Front door adorned with their cherry logo and some of the resident artists' work. Cute goofy cards that can’t make me laugh under this amount of stress. We duck in. He pulls the blinds closed like he knows the place. The owner is relaxed, privy to what’s going on. I make eye contact with her and she nods to say welcome. The man turns to me.
Paul: We don’t have much time. Hi, I’m Paul.
Rebecca: You’re Paul? Why didn’t you just say that?!
Rebecca VO: There’s still a sarcastic part of me awake inside that’s saying: of course we don’t have much time, that figures, naturally.
Paul: The evidence at the lake was planted. They are scrambling to make it look like you were responsible for Dmitri’s disappearance.
Rebecca: You… You’re sure? How do you—
Paul: Rebecca, that’s not Dmitri.
Rebecca: I knew it couldn’t be him. They wouldn’t even let me see the face.
Rebecca VO: Tears well up against my eyes and heart with relief and continued confusion.
Rebecca: That means someone’s setting me up. Who? Why they do this to me?
Paul: Take this phone. My number’s on it. You need to get rid of the one you have now. Or at least don’t keep it on you. Definitely don’t use if you don’t want them to hear you and track you.
Rebecca VO: He pauses, waiting for me to agree. I nod. I’ve seen enough spy movies. I know what a burner phone is. He keeps peeking through the blinds. The shopkeeper looks less than relaxed but it’s not like there’s any immediate danger lurking.
Paul: I have been obsessing over what happened to my brother for the last six months and you story has convinced me that I’m not crazy.
Rebecca: I have become a story?
Paul: There’s a buzz right now that no one can stop. You cannot go hunting for other abductees anymore.
Rebecca: Well that didn’t exactly work out great…
Paul: Rebecca, they are watching too closely. Whoever it is they don’t care about the others. It’s just you they want to keep an eye on and they’re waiting for Dmitri. They are afraid you’re going to surface. Resurface.
Paul: They’re scared that you’re going to blow their cover. Look, just relax on the hunt for just a couple days. I have to get some things together, some people together. Do not use that phone unless it’s an emergency and do not call anyone else with it. I’ll be getting in touch with you soon. In just a few days, we’ll get started.
Rebecca: Wait, You have to give me more than that. Do you know where he is?
Paul: If I don’t, we know someone who does.
Rebecca: What do you mean we?