Kelvin was in his bedroom, lying down, when he heard the doorbell ring. He remained silent for a moment, too afraid to get up. Had the police come back? Was that sergeant going to question him again? Had he revealed too much about himself?He looked over at the nightstand clock. Ten minutes after nine. An unusual time for callers. His heart was beating even faster. Who could it be, then, if not them?He went quietly to the window and opened the curtain. No car at the door. That ruled out the police.He took a shaking breath, but relief was fleeting. Getting into the room opposite the direction towards the corridor, planning to look through the glass window next to the front door, movement down the way halted him.There was a small dog in the black passageway, its paws as quiet as the tiles. Its thin coat was a dirty caramel, with rough patches, its big bulging eyes too big for its face—frog-like, gangly, insensitive. Its tongue was poking out a little way, as if inviting him out.Kelv
Ten years ago, there was a loud ringing of Lilian's phone that woke her up after another night without sleep. She had not slept for two years since Daniel, Aunt Clara's husband, came into their lives. There was something about him that unsettled her mind and kept her awake the whole night. Without him, she hardly slept. With him around, she slept like a small child at her mother's bosom.She let out a breath and sat up in bed, her heart racing with restless urgency. The message pulsed on her screen, and when she read what it was, her heart thrashed. The stealth tracking software she'd installed told her: Daniel returned to town.Her heart hammered in her chest. A heedless grin pulled at her lip.She sat up and quickly dressed. She did not care if he was with Clara or not. She could not even begrudge him for ignoring her, as always. She simply had to see him—no matter whether it was from a distance, where no one would even realize she was looking at him.Second nature by this time to c
"I'm okay… I did not want to speak with her now," Lilian said into the receiver. Her voice was muffled since she heard laughter and the sound of bass notes erupt. The music was not blasting, but loud enough that it seemed every sentence was strained to be heard."Are you at a club or something?" Jack's voice cut through the line, punctuated by the sudden shriek of someone else in the area announcing the DJ had just played their favorite song."Kind of," she answered, her voice shaking somewhere between anger and indifference.There was silence on his end, and then a sudden intake of air. "Are you drunk?"Just texted, she laughed, but her eyes stayed fixed on the half-empty glass before her, the one she was going to fill until night turned into nothing."Do you have a designated driver?That earned a snort from her—high, irregular, almost girlish. Police training was obvious in him, his voice tight with restraint and concern. She was strangely comforted by it, even here in this desolat
Lilian's phone had rung the hundredth time. Doris' name was displayed on the flashing, bright screen, but as with every other attempt since yesterday, she didn't mind answering it. The call cut out, and with that, the silence fell again—thick, heavy, and pressing against her chest like something that clings.Doris had been calling her, repeatedly calling, but Lilian wasn't prepared for the ring of her voice, not to mention answering. Doris continued to stay with one foot there, the there that Lilian wanted to leave. Chris' there. Rita's there. That tainted world of lies, of lies, of slashes deeper than skin.That single idea left her standing alone at a road intersection, struggling to breathe and drowning."Give me another," she told the bartender as her phone at last fell silent. She growled it out in a flat, empty voice, as if all the air had been drained out of it.The bartender—a boyishly youthful boy whose jaw was still not firm enough to keep stories he most assuredly had been
Sandra knew Bill Darcy was at his club. After a minute or so, he came on the line.Bill, I'm in trouble," she said to him, her voice hoarse, shivering although she fought to remain standing."Alright, girl," he answered smoothly, his voice soft but with underlying steel. "That's what you've got me for. What is it?Sandra breathed in, shoulders drooping in a gesture as if the weight of her own universe had fallen on them. Having Bill behind her was like having an iron wall there. It comforted her and it terrorized her, too. His granite calmness, that immovable trust in controlling crises, sometimes caused her to wonder whether ever he had faced a situation he could not control—or destroy.“Joe Collins has just left,” she said, lowering her voice though she was alone. “Sean got Evelyn’s address from him last night. Collins is trying to blackmail me. I’m supposed to take him to my apartment tonight, or he’ll go to the police about Sean.”There was silence on the line for a beat. Then Dar
Mike Freeway wasn't the only man in Coal City with a nose for fast money. Joe Collins—just as well recognized in the back room's smoky atmosphere as J. Cole—had a gift for smelling opportunity where other men smelled gunpowder. Tall, dark, and patient, Cole lived on very little. His greasy black hair clung to his skull, his pencil-line moustache curled into a snarl, and his chin, shadowed blue from the previous night's shaving, was rarely tobacco-stained.The stop-press headlines on the streets that morning, Songbird Evelyn Chase found dead in Apartment, did not require a detective to read them out to Cole. Sean had killed her. Of that he was sure.Cole remembered Sean storming into his office last week, eyes bulging with desperation, demanding the address of Evelyn. A command from a lunatic. A lunatic's eyes. Cole had dealt with madness before and smelled it on Sean like sweat.Had Evelyn not just sent his overtures packing, embarrassing him in the process, Cole would have kept her l