Page 209 of Callan

I wanted to go back and not wander on the streets anymore, but it wasn’t in the cards for me.

I kept going until I reached Beverly’s building.

I found it so interesting that she’d lived so close to where I lived.

Like a putz, I looked up at the windows––I didn’t know if hers overlooked the street––and frankly, I hoped for a miracle.

A lot of ‘miracles’ have happened in the past.

I ran into him.

I talked to her more than once.

I even talked to him when he was at her place.

I felt strange and queasy about stalking that woman.

Even so, I pulled my phone out and called her number.

Her phone was disconnected.

What about that?

It felt like my legs had turned into rubber, and I was about to fall.

That little detail made my confidence crumble.

He was gone.

And she disconnected her phone.

I felt like I was the victim of con artists, and how far was I from the truth?

I was standing in front of her building like a stupid little girl who couldn’t find her way home.

A few minutes had passed before a man living there stopped in front of the entrance, ready to go in, and glanced in my direction.

He asked me if I needed any help, and I swallowed hard and made up a story.

I was supposed to meet Beverly, but she hadn’t answered my calls. I was worried about her. That sort of crap.

He looked at me with suspicion and then told me she no longer lived there.

My heart sunk, and despair gnawed at my edges.

Regardless of how illogical my reaction was, I couldn’t not think that maybe things weren’t coincidental.

He vanished.Became a ghost. And she moved away.

His men were no longer in front of my building or the area.

My neighbors got arrested.

Where did I fit in that story?

I asked the man if he knew where she had moved, and he gave me a chiding look before entering the building without a word.

I was lost and cold as hell as if the entire Arctic ice cap had melted over me.

---