Page 16 of Some Saviors Can Break You

Movement caught his attention, and a moment later Florence’s face appeared in the window as she pushed the curtains aside. She had her phone to her ear and seemed to be talking away, no idea that he was out there watching her. He didn't feel the need to move, to hide or run away, he was invisible, even if she looked right at him she would only see through him, never knowing he had even been there, right outside her apartment. If he’d wanted, he could have gone in there and killed her, and there would have been nothing she could have done to stop him.

In this game of cat and mouse, the detective might think that she was the cat and he was the mouse, but she was wrong. She was the cat, but he was the lion. Bigger, stronger, fiercer, hunting her in silence, she wouldn’t even know that he was there until he pounced.

6:12 A.M.

“Yeah, I'm leaving now, be there in twenty minutes or less,” Florence said into the phone.

“It’ll probably take me closer to thirty to get there,” Jake told her.

“Want me to do a walkthrough or wait till you get there?”

“You can start if you want.”

“Okay, see you soon.” She hung up her phone and stared out the window a moment longer. Ever since she’d been awakened by her ringing cell and had gotten up to answer it, standing to stare out the window while she listened to her boss inform her of the latest case she and Jake had been assigned, she’d felt eyes on her.

Someone was watching her.

While trying not to be too obvious about it, she’d scanned the streets, searching for the mystery watcher, but she hadn't been able to find them.

They were there though.

She’d bet her apartment on it.

And she loved this apartment. It was nothing fancy, the area was the best she could afford on a cop’s salary—helped along by the fact that she taught self-defense classes whenever she could at her gym. It was a one-bedroom with a tiny kitchen with room for a six-seater table. The lounge area had space for her old but comfy three-seater couch and a TV she rarely watched, and her bookshelf and favorite armchair where she loved to snuggle and read when she had time. It wasn't a lot, but it was hers, and she loved her small home.

Since she didn't have any more time to spend trying to find out where the person watching her was hiding, she let the curtains fall closed and turned to make her bed. She had splurged a little on her bedroom furniture, the sleigh bed and matching nightstands, dresser, and wardrobe were all in a beautiful maple, and she loved running her hand over the smooth, silky wood.

Once the bed was made she opened her wardrobe, grabbed a pair of black jeans, some knee-high boots, a blue sweater, and her thick black coat. She made quick work of getting dressed, brushed her teeth, ran a brush through her long blonde hair and pulled it into a ponytail, and grabbed an apple to eat as she walked the block to the subway.

Taking the stairs, she stepped out into the chilly winter morning a mere five minutes after ending the phone call to her partner, glad as she always was that she didn't have some long morning routine with makeup and hair products. She wanted to get to the crime scene as promptly as she could.

Although they would continue to work the Dumpster Killer case—more diligently than ever after what had happened the other night—it didn't mean there wouldn’t be new cases coming in. She and Jake had been next in the rotation so they’d been the ones to be assigned to this case. From what her boss had told her it seemed like it would be fairly open and shut. It appeared to be a case of domestic violence, the victim was a woman in her mid-thirties, the husband had been in and out of prison, cops had been to their apartment several times, neighbors reported a loud argument right before shots rang out.

Domestic violence cases always hit close to home for her.

How many times had she watched her mother get beaten up by her newest boyfriend?

More than she cared to admit.

As she walked toward the subway, she became aware of someone following her.

Immediately, thoughts of her messed up childhood fled her mind as she focused her energy on everything happening around her. The streets weren't busy, but there were people about, one set of footsteps in particular seemed to be following her.

Noting the details, she determined that the footsteps belonged to a man, substantially larger than herself. He seemed to be trying to keep the distance between them the same, no doubt waiting until there was no one about before he made his move.

Too bad for him she was going to make her move first.

Florence turned the corner, the subway station was just up ahead, but instead of going for it, she ducked into the doorway of the nearest building.

Moments later, a man in a dark suit came around the corner.

Pulling out her gun, she pointed it at his head. “Why are you following me?” she demanded.

The man turned. “Are you going to be pointing a gun at me every time we talk?”

“Eli,” she said, letting out a frustrated breath while at the same time a bunch of nervous butterflies took up residence in her stomach. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to offer you a ride to work.” His easy smile was in place, and his dark eyes were twinkling as though he found it amusing to have a gun pointed at him. “You going to put that thing away?”

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