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Maybe it was that van?
I’d seen it earlier but then remembered that the interior of the parking garage was being restored. So it probably wasn’t them.
It could be that SUV or the two-door across the street.
As I pulled out of the garage and drove toward home, I continued the game but soon grew weary of it.
How could I expect myself to do this?
I often tried to perk myself up and not give into despair, but it was threatening now.
I didn’t know what I was doing, and I didn’t have anyone I could lean on.
I squeezed my locket, then breathed out deep.
Falling apart wouldn’t help anything, and I refused to allow myself to do so.
As I pulled into my driveway, the phone Davit had given me rang.
“Yeah?” I asked, trying to ignore the nerves in my voice.
“You made it home,” he said.
“Yeah,” I responded, the nerves giving way to annoyance.
“Do you want me to come over?” he asked.
“No. That would not be the usual routine.”
“Do you want to come to my place?”
“Which one?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Josh Kelley’s place or Davit’s?”
“Which would you prefer?”
“Davit’s,” I responded without hesitation.
“Go inside. My men will meet you out back and bring you here,” he said.
“Okay,” I responded, and hung up the phone.
I grabbed my briefcase and lunch bag and went into the house.
I changed quickly, then went to the back door off the kitchen when I heard a knock.
It was a tall but otherwise nondescript-looking man.
“You ready?” he asked in heavily accented English.
I nodded and followed behind him, locking the door as I left.
We got into an SUV, one that I hadn’t seen in all of my searching, and made the drive in silence. The driver didn’t look at me once, and this was one of those rare times I wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
What was I doing?
