Her Last Waiting At City Hall Novels & Stories

All four were holding their breath as they waited for the inevitable encounter with Jon. After about thirty minutes of following her on the cameras, they saw her stop. She had put her cell phone away and was standing as though she was waiting for someone. Dorian looked at the address she was supposedly headed to, and it was nowhere near where she was. As they watched, she stood there for ten minutes. Hillary kept looking at her watch and then up and down the street. While she was waiting, they saw an old woman approach her. She was hunched over and walking with a walker. Natalia had an uneasy feeling as she watched Hillary walk with the woman.

I stopped in my tracks, questioning my presence in that particular location. When a stall opened, I quickly took refuge inside, my heart pounding. I was aware that he had spotted me. “Dammit!” I muttered, hoping to hear him leave. When I finally heard his footsteps retreating, I cautiously peeked out, only to discover that he was still there. “Cunning individual,” I exclaimed as I made my exit. He followed suit, but I was quicker. I paused around a corner to catch my breath, having waited for twenty minutes before changing my clothes and proceeding to City Hall. It was time for them to understand that Wendy Whitney Decodes had returned.

He pleaded as he stretched his hand out, waiting for me to throw the keys to him. I took the keys out. "And this will be the last time you step in my way!!" I scowled before throwing the keys at him. It wouldn't be hard for him to know which key was the right one. I walked away as he walked in to go save the cursed girl. I had a very important thing to do right now. And that was to catch up with Criezman Reynolds, the Mayor's candidate.

The pounding of her heart softened, steadied. “City Hall!” the driver’s call jolted her upright. She followed the crowd out of the jeep, and soon enough, the City Hall building loomed before her. Taking a deep breath, she strode inside, straight to the Mayor’s office. She would wait. “You were here yesterday, weren’t you?” a man in an embroidered formal shirt asked, recognizing her. “Yes. I want to speak with the Mayor.” “He’s not here. Fridays, he doesn’t come in. You’ll have to return Monday.”

DASHIELL When I returned to the house, there was no one there. I knocked on the door for a long time until their neighbour told me she saw them leaving a few minutes ago. It seemed I was late. I didn't take off immediately. I sat on their front porch, waiting, hoping they would return on time, but that wasn't the case. I stayed until it got late before I left. I couldn't call her because the number I saw in her file was linked to her office. She didn't leave any personal number, probably because of me. She must have known I would look for it, which was why she didn't put it.

Episode 66 Sheriff Trina walked out of the investigating room with Decker trailing behind her, one of the cops walked so fast to meet her pace and told her about the rise in the death toll in the city, she checked the time on her phone, and it says 8:30 pm the petition has gone up to 50 people signing, knowing so well Cassie is not always with her phone, she put a call across to Sean and waited patiently for him to pick it, she stepped outside the station as she determined to stop Carter.

The cold wood tingled my toes. My head whipped around the moment I heard the crackling sound again from the radio, and I dropped to all fours. I grinned as I spotted the walkie-talkie tucked under the bed. How it had got under there, I had no idea, but I quickly snagged it. “AP, it’s Ciara,” I said as I plopped down on the bed and ran my hand through my hair, trying to get some of the knots out. “Ciara, I need Cillian down at City Hall, ASAP. There’s a commotion going on,” AP said.

It's somewhere in between—a bruise-colored warmth, tender to the touch. City hall smells like floor wax and bureaucracy. We're in a beige waiting room with fluorescent lights that make everyone look mildly ill. Lulu's on my lap, gnawing the corner of a pamphlet about property tax exemptions, which she seems to find riveting. A number dispenser hums on the wall. Ours is sixty-three. They're on forty-nine. Silas sits beside me, legs stretched out, arms folded, looking about as comfortable in a government building as a wolf in a—

She hated places like this and now she was forced to stay here more. "Can't we get on with this already?... I mean who exactly are we waiting for and why isn't he here?" She complained to Stan. "I think it's the family of the culprit, the police want them here before anything happens." "Well, they should put a call through to them because I can't spend my whole day in such places." "Officer!" She called one of them who just finished on the phone. "Yes madam?." "What or who the hell are we waiting for? We've been here for like twenty minutes and yet nothing."

She had seen me waiting there all day. Snapping back to my senses, I shook my head lightly. "Thank you. I'm not doing it today." … As I walked out of the City Hall, a few staff members passing by after getting off work whispered to each other, "I think I've seen her a few times. She always comes here alone, trying to get married." "Now that you mention it, I remember her, too. She's always waiting for someone who never shows up." I kept my expression blank, but on the inside, I was dreadfully embarrassed. Shame overwhelmed me to the point where I couldn’t lift my head. Instinctively, I picked up my pace.