Page 110 of Callan

Yeah, right. Like that makes sense.

I can’t stay still as I return to the room, pace to the kitchen, and open the refrigerator. I can’t eat or enjoy a drink.

I need to get out of this place. And maybe go to that woman and explain to her what happened. Why I acted the way I did.

Maybe she can tell me where he is.

Tense, I turn around, go to the closet, and pull out clothes.

Warm pants and a top. A coat and boots.

I collect my gloves and a scarf before putting my ear muffs on.

Minutes later, I head to the door.

I can’t say I’m not crazily anxious to walk out.

I can’t also say it doesn’t stress me out to pace into the hallway and maybe run into those people again.

Quietly, I lock the door and check my surroundings before stealthily moving away.

A door opens on the upper floor as I take the stairs down and rush to reach the lobby and exit the building before anyone can spot and follow me.

I hope it’s not them.

Even without knowing for sure, I still feel like I’m being followed.

Beads of sweat trickle down my neck, and my short coat feels heavy.

“Fuck…” I mutter as I reach the sidewalk and swiftly head up north.

I hate these people. And I hate I'm in their crosshairs. They’re using me to get to him.

They believe I’m important to him.

They believe I’m important to him?

This is not the time to boast about this shit.

My eyes go over my shoulder as I scan the street to make sure no one is following me.

A sigh of relief rolls off my lips when I spot the next block in the distance.

It’s about five or ten minutes away. What if she’s not home? Do I want to return to my place?

Do I feel safe there?

No. And no.

Speaking of feeling safe. Still pacing away, I shift my head and look back.

My heart jumps to my throat.No fucking way.

I slow down so I don’t stumble and fall. It’s hard to tell, but two silhouettes slide quickly past the buildings.

Normally, it would mean nothing.And I wouldn’t straightly think they had something to do with me.

But things are different tonight.

---