Chapter 1

Billie.

“Order for fries, diet Coke, and crispy fried heart attack, last one!” Milly chirped.

“That customer’s a no-show. The place is empty.”I replied.

“Shit,” she winced. “Dan left early for some family emergency. Please deliver it? I swear, I’ll pay your Uber. If Malcolm gets a customer complaint, we’re both toast.” She pleaded.

“Fine.”I said, taking off my apron.

With the bag in hand, I flagged down a cab.

“Blue Saint Street, please.”I said to the driver once inside.

The cab rolled to a stop in front of a sleek three-story apartment. I paid the fare and got out.

As I approached the door, it creaked open.

“Hello...? Mr. Morris? Your order has arrived?” My voice echoed. A beer sat on the counter, someone was definitely home.

I made my way to the open basement door upon hearing voices coming from there.

Six large, shadowy men stood around a guy on his knees.

“Felix, we had a deal and you backstabbed us. “You thought we wouldn’t find you?” One said.

“I'm begging you. To please forgive me. Give me another chance.” Felix whimpered clasping his hands together.

“Go to hell, Felix.” another man drawled, aiming the gun on his head.

Two loud bangs echoed.

I let out a scream, dropped the bag and made a run for it, out the basement and past the main door. I flagged down a cab and ordered him to drive as fast as possible.

By the time I got home, I was shaking and panting.

Brian looked up from the couch,

“Babe, you okay?”He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.” I lied.

I bee lined to the shower, and stood under scalding water trying to scrub what I had just seen.

~~~

The next day, Milly gave me a glance and stopped mid-coffee sip.

“Billie, why do you look so down?” She asked.

“I had a bad dream,” I muttered.

A customer dinged in.

I dragged myself to the window and read the next order slip.

“Two diet cokes, fries, and crispy chicken for… Mr. Sweet Coochie?” I said, arching my brow.

Millie chuckled from behind. “Don’t question it.”

A sleek, matte black Range Rover rolled up, its tinted window slid down. My words stuck in my throat.

A handsome dark haired man with striking hazel eyes turned his focus to me. He donned a black leather jacket, white shirt, and a silver chain. He had tattoos peeking on his neck and hands, with a kiss me inked on his pinky. His right hand rested on something inside his jacket.

He smirked, I blushed.

I handed him the food.

“Enjoy your… meal. Mr. Sweet Coochie,” I said, avoiding eye contact. He sped off.

I stared after the car before shaking my head. No, I shouldn't let thoughts of other men drown my mind. I’m married and loyal to Brian.

~~~~~

It's been a week since that night I witnessed a mürder. I shoved the memory in the back of my mind and went on with my life. There was no news headlines about a man found dead in his basement.

Maybe it was all in my head. I did forget to take my migraine meds that day and water.

"This will be your last day, Billie. Here's your pay," Malcom said flatly, handing me an envelope.

I stared at it.

"I don’t understand... What did I do?" I asked, confused as to why I'm fired.

"I’m sorry, it's been a pleasure working with you. ."He replied.

"What am I supposed to do? I need this job please." I pleaded.

Brian would flip when he found out I've been fired. His garage hadn’t made squat this week.

"Sweet Homes Agency is hiring. Try your luck," Malcom said and walked away.

So I did exactly that, marched into Sweet Homes and applied. I prayed I'd get hired.

As I exited the building, I smacked straight into someone nearly stumbling.

I shook my head and called for a cab. Ending the call my eyes fixated on a black Toyota Corolla parked across the street with tinted windows. There was something about that car that drove a shiver down my spine.

~~~~

SILAS

I kept my left hand flat on the steering wheel, the other cupping the gun in my lap. She glanced at my windshield, then climbed into the cab. I followed a few metres behind.

The cab pulled up opposite the police station. She climbed out, dug into her bag, and drew an envelope. I threaded the silencer onto the muzzle, swiftly thumbed the slide back until it tightened, and brought the car to a halt just a few meters from her.

Across the street was a police station, she turned her head right then left. Lowering my window just enough, I raised my gun aiming for her neck. If she makes just one step into the police station I will pull the trigger.

She turned left, cutting across to the post office. She fumbled, dropped the envelope, bent to pick it up, and deposited it into the post office. She returned to the cab and left.

Leon’s order was that I must kill the witness before noon.

Something about her struck a familiar memory that disappeared before I could make sense of it. I was sure I could kill her on a second attempt but I couldn't. One last attempt.

~~~

I switched into the blue BMW and parked across her house. It was past eleven and the lights were off. Getting the spare key wasn’t hard. She had tucked it under a cracked flower pot by the door.

Inside the house was quiet except for a snore from the bedroom. I eased the bedroom door open and walked in. Brian lay on his back snoring. She slept on her side, lashes resting on her cheek.

Leon’s missed calls lit my smart watch. I grabbed a pillow and leaned over her. Her brow twitched but she didn’t wake up. I will smother her and let the husband take the fall, but my hand couldn't move. I just can't kill her. That's now a third failed attempt.

I emptied my back pack drawing out two pinhole cameras, a micro-recorder and sticky mounts. I planted them beneath the lamp, in the hallway clock and behind a photo frame. Beside the bedside table I saw pills and a water bottle. I pocketed the spare key, locked the door, and left.