Chapter 43 Who? Tyler?
'THREE DAYS LATER – AFTER LAW 600 CLASS – MAGGIE’S POV, IN HER APARTMENT JUST OUTSIDE CAMPUS'
The penthouse bedroom perched like a glass aerie on the top floor of the three-story building directly opposite WSU’s main gate. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the late-afternoon campus: students crisscrossing the quad in hoodies and backpacks, the clock tower casting a long shadow over red-brick walkways, the distant hum of traffic on Stadium Way filtering up like white noise. At 3:07 p.m. the October sun slanted golden through the glass, warming the pale-wood desk where Maggie sat.
Textbooks lay open in a careful semicircle— LAW 600: Criminal Procedure casebook, a thick supplement of annotations, her iPad propped on a stand displaying a highlighted PDF of Dickerson v. United States. Highlighters in three colors dotted the surface; a half-empty iced matcha sat sweating in a condensation ring. Maggie’s long black hair was pulled into a high ponytail, the elastic already loosening from hours of absent tugs. She wore soft grey joggers and an oversized WSU Cougars sweatshirt, sleeves pushed to her elbows, bare feet tucked under the chair.
Her phone— rose-gold case, screen facing up— vibrated once against the wood. The notification chime cut the quiet like a dropped pin.
Maggie’s eyes flicked to it without moving her head. Tyler’s name glowed on the lock screen.
Tyler: What are you doing tonight?
She exhaled through her nose— short, sharp. Reached over, thumbed the phone face-down, and returned to the page. Her pen scratched steadily across the margin: prophylactic rule ≠ constitutional violation per se.
Ten minutes passed. Another vibration. She glanced again.
Message from Tyler: Are you still annoyed with me. i said i’m sorry
Maggie’s jaw tightened. She picked up the phone this time, held it in both hands, stared at the words until they blurred. Then she set it back down— gently, deliberately— screen still down. She rolled her shoulders once, cracked her neck left then right, and forced her eyes back to the text.
Another buzz. She didn’t wait.
Tyler: I said i’m sorry baby it will never happen again.
She read it. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Before she could set the phone down again, it vibrated twice in quick succession.
Tyler: Are you home? I’m coming over.
Maggie’s shoulders stiffened. She inhaled deeply, rolling her eyes so hard it hurt. Her thumbs flew across the screen.
Maggie: I’m not at home. Don’t bother coming.
The reply came instantly, almost as if he had been waiting with his fingers poised.
Tyler: Thank God. I finally got you to respond. I know you’re home, mama. You share your location with me.
Her stomach dropped. “Fuck,” she whispered, pressing her palm against her forehead. “I forgot I share my location with him.”
She typed furiously: You said you’re sorry but you keep repeating what I’ve clearly made it known I don’t like.
Her thumb hovered over the send button. She paused, lips trembling, then erased the message. Instead, she typed: If you come over I won’t let you in. So don’t bother to come.
She hit send.
The response was immediate.
Tyler: Bet. I’ll be with you in an hour.
Her eyes widened. “What?” she whispered, voice sharp. She typed again: Are you even listening to me?
Tyler: Yes baby. I know you’re still mad. And I’m sorry a thousand times. I know the exact thing to make it up to you and make you happy again.
“Ahhhh.” The sound tore out of her— half growl, half frustrated exhale. She yanked the elastic from her ponytail; black hair cascaded over her shoulders in a dark wave. She shook her head once, hard, strands whipping across her cheeks.
“I don’t have time for all of this,” she muttered. “Come over and see if I let you in.”
She dropped the phone onto the desk with a soft clack. Picked up her pen again. Stared at the page. The words swam— Miranda warnings, invocation, waiver. Nothing stuck. Her leg bounced under the desk; the chair creaked with each movement.
After three futile minutes she snatched the phone again. Swiped to contacts. Tapped Lily’s name. Hit call.
It rang once.
“Hey babe,” Lily answered, voice bright, a little breathless. “What’s up? Was just about to text you— have you started studying for LAW 600 yet?”
“I have. Just started today.” Maggie leaned back in the chair, free hand rubbing slow circles at her temple.
“Can we study together? I’m having serious trouble understanding the course.”
“It’s fine. When do you want us to meet?”
“Thanks, babe.” Lily’s relief was audible. “I don't know. Maybe tomorrow if you’re not too exhausted after classes? We could just go over a few things together.”
“Let’s see. If I’m not too tired. Sure.”
“Alright.”
“Yeah.”
A small pause. Maggie heard the faint sound of Netflix playing in the background— some true-crime docuseries, dramatic music swelling then fading.
“So what are you doing right now?” Lily asked.
“Literally studying LAW 600.” Maggie’s voice flattened. Then quieter: “Guess who’s been calling and messaging non-stop?”
Lily didn’t hesitate. “Who? Tyler?”