Page 138 of Nothing to Fear

Okay, so the only sustenance in the apartment was the salad she bought yesterday. Takeout was too much effort. Maybe there was some dressing left… somewhere. Though if the fridge had been open the whole time she’d been out, would the salad still be good? The wine was cold, icy cold, if it stayed that cold in the open door—

She swung it open and—salad wasn’t the only thing in there. A small box on the middle shelf was open to display a single chocolate. Okay, that wasn’t something she’d ever…

Peeking around the door, she checked out the room. No one. Slamming the fridge again, she went to the front door and… locked. If she’d locked the door and—did she miss the gift on getting the wine? Maybe, it was in the door, and she—only Darroch had a key.

Stomping upstairs again, she went back to her wine in the bedroom. Now she wasn’t hungry, no, she was angry. What the hell gave him the right to sneak into her home? Maybe it hadn’t been him. No. He could’ve sent anyone, paid anyone to—thatwas beyond crossing the line. So far beyond that there weren’t words to describe it.

Her phone rang.

Good.

Snatching it up, she anticipated who it would be. “What?” she snapped. “You better not think that—I can’t believe you—what do you have to say for yourself?”

Nothing. No apology. No explanation. Just breathing. Slow, steady but deep, inhales followed by exhales prickled every hair on her body.

Checking the screen, expecting his name, all she read was “unknown.”

“Who is this?” she asked to no reply. “Answer me!”

Something on the line clicked, a few seconds passed, and then the drone of disconnection.

Was she losing her mind?

Startled when the phone rang again, the sight of “unknown” prompted her to switch the thing off.

Whatever this was, whoever it was, the walls were closing in. She had to get out of there.

FORTY-SEVEN

THE MOTEL MIGHT be cheap, it might be far from home, but what was home anyway? Running out of her apartment the way she had the previous day was maybe an overreaction. Maybe. Except she still hadn’t turned her phone back on.

One thing the trip showed her was life beyond her usual stomping ground. Maybe it was time to move. Where would she go? Where did she want to go?

That was the predominant thought on her walk around the block. Clearing out her head, thinking of the future, and… hmm, she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten since Roxie’s.

Heading to the motel front desk, she glanced around as she approached the counter.

A woman, late-teens-ish, sat in a chair with her feet up on the unit holding the TV. It was on, but she was lost in the cellphone she held.

“Anywhere around here do takeout?”

The woman leaned back to pick up a menu and held it up without taking her eyes from the screen.

“Thank you.”

“You seven?”

“Am I…? Yes, room seven.”

“Got a message.”

“A message?” Her hands went to the counter again. “For me?Ihave a message?” No one knew she was there; she hadn’t spoken to a soul since fleeing. “From who?”

“Some guy.” The receptionist tore a sheet from a nearby pad. “Here.”

The menu was discarded in lieu of the new slip.

Know where you are. Still watching. We’ll be together soon.

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