The Fall(15)

My fingers got busy, tapping out Sofia’s full name and social, all of which had been provided by her dear old dad. That was all that they needed, my back easing against the leather as I waited to see what pinged back.

It didn’t take long for the benign shit to flood my screen. LinkedIn page, graduation information, address and phone number. Most of which I could have gathered myself without too much effort.

I knew it would take a little longer to get to the juicy stuff, so I got out of the seat and walked to the kitchen to grab a beer before settling back in and getting comfortable.

Okay *s, let’s see what we’re dealing with.





I knew it had been his room.

The bedrooms had almost looked identical, a box spring and mattress directly on the floor with almost no bedroom furniture. Except for one room that still carried his scent.

It gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction to be in his room, a space that, if not for a messed up comforter, looked barely lived in. This was where he slept, where even he was vulnerable. And I was in it.

Tears had stung my eyes as I slammed the door. But I managed to hold my breath and choked down the sobs, only allowing silent rivulets to trickle down my cheeks.

He didn’t get to see me cry.

I wouldn’t give him that.

I kicked off my sneakers, letting the bag on my shoulder fall beside the bed as I sat on top of the mattress. My head pounded, like my forehead had developed its own heartbeat as I lowered my body, allowing my head to rest on the pillow. It was the same one he favored I assumed, as a mix of body wash and cologne wafted through the fabric as my head moved against it. It smelled the way he looked.

Powerful.

Strong.

Fearless.

Hard.

He was stone—cold and unyielding—and I was stuck here with him.

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the nightmare of my uncertainty knowing full well I wouldn’t be sleeping. How could I? Instead my mind flicked on like an old-school projector and replayed the night’s events in slow grainy flashbacks. The memory of his eyes locked on mine made me gasp as I sat up in bed. The weight of his stare wasn’t something I could easy shake off, and I’d faced cold-hearted killers. His eyes had something infinitely more unsettling—what that was exactly I didn’t know—and if my racing pulse was anything to go by, I didn’t want to find out.

Damn it. I was totally freaking myself out, conjuring up hypotheticals about who he was. He was just a man I told myself, the room just as empty as when I’d closed the door. My thumping heartbeat now matched the headache I had going on as I drew my knees up to my chest. I wondered if he had any Motrin hiding in his bathroom cabinet; surely even criminals needed pain relief once in a while.

My feet dropped quietly to the floor, wincing as I tried to make as little noise as possible. I wanted the chance to explore without his attention, padding on my tiptoes to the bedroom door, hoping to make it to the bathroom without running into him.

The overnight bag I’d left on the backseat of his car had been dumped in front of the doorway, my feet almost tripping over it.

“Fuck,” I whispered, regaining my balance by grabbing onto the doorjamb. I managed to right myself onto my feet and pulled it into the room.

Shit. My cell phone.

I had completely forgotten I’d buried it under my clothes, not willing to give up a link to the outside world when I’d left my house. My hand plunged into the overnight bag, the idea of finding it and putting it somewhere safe weighing heavily on my mind. I didn’t have to look too far.

Sitting on top was my disabled Samsung Galaxy, the casing still split into two pieces.

He’d found it and killed my phone.

My fists balled tightly as I tossed the useless pieces back into the bag, my only method of communication stripped from me. I should have carried the bag up myself. Shit. It had been stupid to leave it behind.

Ignoring the slight setback, I moved back outside the doorway and silently walked past the stairs. The faint glow of light floated up from downstairs as I made my way to the small bathroom at the end of the hall.

Like the rest of the house, it had been redone. The light reflected off the shiny fixtures and clean walls as I hit the switch. My face looked back at me, courtesy of a mirrored medicine cabinet, and God did I look like hell.

My eyes were red and puffy and my hair was a mess, all of which was tossed aside as I pulled open the cabinet door and hoped like hell he at least had some Tylenol in there. Jackpot. Advil. It would do.

Turning on the faucet and using my hands to cup the water, I swallowed a couple of pills and prayed they’d kick in soon. My eyes closed for a minute as I shut off the water. Just the sound of it running down the sink made my headache worse and I needed a minute to be still. My lids slowly lifted, the movement at my side making me jump.

“Shit. You scared me.” The back of my legs hit the tub as I instinctively moved away.

His head tilted toward the partially opened cabinet door. “You need something?”

“No.” I brushed him off, not bothering to tell him I’d already found what I needed. “No, I’m fine.”

“You should get some sleep. We’ll probably be moving in the morning.” He folded his arms across his chest, stepping out of the doorway so I could leave.

“Going where?” my mouth asked without thinking.

His eyebrow rose in a sarcastic taunt, the you-really-think-I’m-going-to-tell-you not needing to be spoken.