Page 18 of Moth
Chapter Four
Iget ready for bed robotically, dressing in my comfy sweats and braiding my hair into two plaits. My reflection in the bathroom mirror stares back at me warily until I finally turn away.
Entering my living room, I lounge on my couch directly across from my small television, and the tiny, broken device propped on top of it.
With my arm extended, I smile and snap a selfie with my cell phone. Then I send it to Branden with a quick message.Long day, heading to bed early. Night!
His reply takes only seconds to come.Good night. I’ll have Liam drive by to check on you. He saw you in town earlier. You know I don’t like you wandering the streets outside of work.
I swallow hard and compose a reply.Just got some lunch. Night!
It’s like an invisible timer ticks down as I stand and turn off all the lights but the one in my bedroom. In the semi-darkness, I sneak to my window and wait, watching the street. Ten minutes later, a patrol car cruises by, and I know its driver is looking up, searching for my floor. He’ll expect me to wave, so I do, smiling brightly.
He flashes his lights in a silent greeting and then drives off.
And the second he’s out of view, I strip my sweats and change into a sweater and jeans. Then I grab my bag and slip from my apartment, creeping down the stairs as if Branden can hear me all the way from Santa Barbara.
It’s surprisingly quiet out at this time of night. Shadows lurk on the street corners, and I can almost hear them whispering “idiot” as I creep past.
The same old worry crosses my mind. Branden would kill me if he knew. That is, if some criminal or thief doesn’t beat him to the punch.
What the heck am I doing out here? On what? A savior mission?
Or a suicidal one…
Thankfully, I’m not completely naïve and have a can of pepper spray in my bag. My cell phone is at the ready in my pocket, with my thumb hovering over the speed dial for emergency services.
It’s not enough. A phone call won’t stop a knife or a gun.
Or a man capable of smashing glass with his bare hands.
The fragile peace of mind gives me the strength to keep walking, though. It isn’t long before the distinct shape of the Paper Crane comes into focus. Shadows drape the broken storefront along with ribbons of bright yellow caution tape that glow in the light of a nearby streetlamp. Before I even reach the front door and tug on the handle to find it locked, I know Mr. Zhang isn’t here.
Disappointment gnaws at my stomach. Or maybe it’s more likedesperation?
What am I even doing out here? I should leave. Go home. Search through the local job listings.
Instead, I turn on my heel and find myself wandering down the block in another direction. The events of the day unfurl in my mind, and one tidbit of information stands out. Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m already typing what little I remember into the search engine on my cell phone.
The address turns out to be on the other side of town, nestled among a bunch of abandoned warehouses. I think it’s near Fisherman’s Wharf, but this area isn’t dominated by the glitzy markings of a tourist trap. I don’t know what to expect when I approach a building with graffiti scrawled across its brick façade. A glass door only reveals a shadow-covered hallway beyond, but it’s unlocked, and a smell like wet metal itches my nose when I cross over the threshold.
“H-Hello?” My voice travels on a seemingly endless echo. A dead end? This place is abandoned, obviously. I start to turn back just as someone answers from the darkness.
“…I’m trying,” a woman insists, though she isn’t speaking to me. Her voice is soft, betraying her age. Young. Early twenties? “But you don’t know what it’s like. It’s not like I can just walk away.”
“Why can’t you?” a gruffer voice replies. Rafe. “Just turn the bastard in for prostitution, and break whatever fucking hold he has over you. You said he texts you? That’s evidence.”
“It’s not that easy,” the woman says. “I’m sure he uses a burner, especially now. After what you did… He’s fucking insane. I have no idea what he’s going to do now. They all probably know I’m the one who—”
“You did the right thing. That’s it.”
“Did I?” the woman questions. “I can’t hide from him forever. Whether or not you want to play the role of hero, I have to go.”
Light footsteps start in my direction too quickly to evade. Up ahead, a slender figure rounds an unseen corner. Dark hair spills down her shoulders, obscuring the neckline of her tight, pink minidress. Smoky makeup enhances the shadows that shroud her face, and the only detail I can make out clearly is a sparkly bit of material glinting in her hair. A hair clip?
The closer she comes, the clearer it is to make out—a tiny silvery butterfly.
“I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” she calls back to Rafe, eyeing me up and down as she walks by. “It looks like your next damsel in distress is already here.”
