Page 37 of Callan

The passenger side door opens, and a short, burly man wearing a dark cap and matching athletic gear looks up.

Instinctively, I pull back.

“What the…?” I murmur, interrupting Kayla, who’s talking about a dress she’s bought for the New Year's Eve party.

“What happened?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

I lean forward and peer downstairs.

The man has his eyes up while inching closer to the building door, yet he doesn’t look at me.

Besides, I’m hidden in the dark, so he can’t see me. I don’t think so.To confirm my suspicions, I push to the side and look at my neighbor’s windows upstairs.

They’re lit, so she must be home.

Although I’ve rarely seen her these past few days.

And for sure, I haven’t seen her husband.

“I don’t know what kind of business this woman runs…” I let out.

“What are you talking about?”

“My neighbor. Carmen. She has a new guest.”

“New as in… A different man?”

“Apparently.”

“What happened to that guy?”

“I wish I knew. He’s probably laying low. Or maybe they ended their arrangement.”

“Arrangement?”

I laugh.

“Their fucking arrangement. I don’t know.”

I go back to the door and look down out of habit.

“Oops,” I murmur.

“What now?”

“She has two guests.”

No fucking way.

Another man––the one who drove the car––walks from around the corner, his gaze tilted up.

What’s up with these men?

And why do they have to check her apartment before going in? What kind of clues are they after?

I step to the side again and peer up.

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