After being stuck in traffic the whole way back from his camping trip, then getting a vague but urgent-sounding text when his cell was back in range, Tripp took the stairs to Steve and Kayla's apartment two at a time—hoping to make up for missing lunch and to burn off some nervous energy.

Once reaching the suite, he went for his key on reflex. He knew it didn't matter that Steve was expecting company; Tripp knew his dad and didn't doubt the door was locked and bolted six ways to Sunday.

Finding that wasn't the case when the unlocked knob turned under his hand, walking inside, he saw the floor rug askew, takeout containers on the counter, dirty dishes in the sink, and a pot of burnt-smelling coffee on the coffeemaker.

"Dad? Kayla?"

Not getting an answer, Tripp stepped into the living room only to curse, stubbing his toe on a large plastic storage bin filled with books.

"What the hell?"

Seeing additional notebooks and journals scattered on the floor, along with used mugs and half-full water bottles on the coffee table – none of which were on the coasters Kayla liked– Tripp reached for the knife in his back pocket.

Slowly he crossed the room, fully prepared to deal with whatever mystery intruder had broken in, trashed the place, and seemed to have had an all-night study session.

Cutting down the hall, seeing the door to the bedroom ajar, drawing his knife, Tripp slowly went to push it open the rest of the way. Right as someone on the other side pushed it back.

Before he could blink, he found himself pinned between the door and the wall with a knife aimed at his throat.

"Try anything, and I swear I'll-"

"Whoa! Dad, easy! It's just me!"

"Tripp?!"

"Yeah!" he sputtered, easing out from behind the door with his hands up.

"Look, I'm sorry I missed lunch but did you need to pull a knife on me?!"

"You're one to talk, son," Steve scoffed, nodding to Tripp's knife as he sheathed his, then led him to the kitchen.

Adjusting his patch, he went to pour himself a cup of the burnt coffee before Tripp intercepted the pot from him, dumping the contents down the sink.

"I'll make fresh. Least I could do after getting here so late."

Thanking him, Steve took a seat at the kitchen table, putting his head in his hands as Tripp eyed him closely while he put the coffee on.

"Now that I am here, though, you mind telling me what's going on? I get this text out of the blue to meet you. I get here, and the place looks like a bomb went off."

Clearing the takeout containers off the countertop, he threw them in the trash, then made his way over to the coffee table to grab the used mugs.

"You're just lucky I beat Kayla here. If she'd walked in on this mess?"

"Tripp-"

"You forgot to use coasters, Dad," he snorted. "If you'd run into her just now in the hall, she'd have turned your knife back on you."

Shaking his head, he turned back to look at Steve, only to see he was on the verge of tears. Quickly setting the mugs in the sink, he sat back across from him at the table, trying to keep his panic in check.

"Okay, seriously. What the hell is going on?"

"Pour the coffee," Steve choked out. "It's a long story."

After hearing it from Steve and from a sinister video message that made him want to break his phone in half, jaw clenched, Tripp got to his feet.

"I can't believe you didn't say anything til now," he said, starting to pace as Steve looked on apologetically.

"I know," he sighed. "But we agreed to wait and treat the symptoms the best we could from here until we knew more."

"Knew more?" Tripp sputtered. "What, this bastard's taped confession, Kayla's condition, didn't spell things out enough for you guys?"

"Tripp-"

"Did you text this video to Stephanie and Joe yet?" he asked as Steve shook his head.

"We just didn't want to scare any of you."

"Well, it's a little late for that."

Grabbing his keys from the kitchen table, he walked over to the door.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"You have to ask?!"

"Tripp-"

"Seriously, if you think 'do no harm' applies to dealing with this homicidal maniac-"

"Hey, you wanna know what I'm thinking?!" Steve snarled.

Taking Tripp by the shoulders, he spun him around to face him.

"I'm thinking the last thing anyone here needs right now is you taking off down a freaking warpath!"

"To try and get answers, Dad!" Tripp snapped, backing out of his hold.

"You gonna get pissed at me for that? You think Kayla would stop me from trying to get the truth out of this guy after what he did to her?"

"Yeah," she scoffed from where she stood listening in the hall.

"You're damn straight I would."