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Charles eyes me skeptically, knowing he's not getting the full story. But he won't press me on it. My business is my own and he respects that.
“Alright, Ms. Hall. No problem,” he assures me. “Other than that, though, I don't show anybody coming through here to see you for the last couple of weeks or so.”
I nod, thinking. All visitors stepping through the door are required to check in with the security desk. Only residents have elevator access keys – guests have to get one from security that must be returned when they leave.
And yet somehow, I know that Robert bypassed security and got into the building at least once already – he left that letter under my door. Which makes it possible for him to have slipped past them again. Or he may have just gotten lucky once. Except that he knows I haven't been home lately. Of course, he could have figured that out by watching my place from the street. I don't know.
All I do know is more times than not, Robert is full of shit. And I need to get some things from my condo if I'll be staying at a hotel for a little while. I hesitate for a moment, a pinprick of fear stabbing my heart as I ponder the possibility that Robert is lying in wait for me somewhere.
I'm tempted to ask Charles for an escort up to my place, but then think better of it. Not only do I not like dragging other people into my drama, I don't really want to embarrass myself if we walk in and my place is empty – which we more than likely will.
“Okay, thanks Charles.”
He gives me a long, even look. “You sure you're okay, Ms. Hall?”
“Oh yeah, just got a lot on my mind.”
He nods but doesn't look entirely convinced. “If you need anything – anything at all – you don't hesitate to call down here,” he declares. “We'll come running.”
“I appreciate that,” I reply with a smile.
As I ride the elevator up, knowing that Charles is watching the cameras closely – and has probably directed the rest of the security staff to do the same by now – I feel a bit better. I feel a little bit safer knowing there will be eyes on me. I get off on my floor and walk down to my front door, slipping the key into the lock, and pushing the door inward.
The onset of night leaves most of my place in murky shadow, so I quickly flip on the light to dispel most of it. Though it helps, most of the front room remains in an inky darkness that just seems to radiate a feeling of unease. Or maybe I'm just paranoid.
As I walk deeper into my place, though, that ominous feeling of unease begins to intensify. My stomach slowly churns and there are goosebumps marching across my skin. I feel that eerie sensation on the back of my neck I sometimes get when somebody's watching me.
“Hello?” I stupidly call out to the empty darkness of the room.
I get no reply – not that I actually expected one – and laugh softly to myself.
“Get a grip on yourself, Emily.”
As I move through the front room, collecting a couple of things I'll be taking, that unease continues to grow. Something feels wrong. It feels off – something I can't quite put my finger on. It sounds crazy, but I somehow just feel that somebody's been in here. It's like, this is my place and I've been living here so long, I know every molecule of air intimately or something. I know when somebody else has been in here and disturbed them. I can feel it.
And I know that somebody's been in here.
“Emily, Emily, Emily.”
The sound of his voice sends fingers of ice sliding straight down my spine. Those fingers then reach into my chest and clutch my heart tightly, squeezing it savagely. I turn and see him leaning against the wall next to the open door to the coat closet – where he’d obviously been hiding.
“How long have you been here, Robert?”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. We’re both here now.”
I take a slow, faltering step back, trying to keep as much distance between us as possible. He doesn’t move. He just stands there watching me, his eyes never leaving mine, a greasy smirk on his face. Somehow, the calm that surrounds him is more unnerving than if he’d been ranting and raving at me. There’s just a smug assuredness about him that chills me straight down to the bone.
“You need to leave Robert,” I protest. “You’re violating the restraining order and –”
“Oh, I think we’re well past things like restraining orders – don’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
I cringe hearing the slight tremor in my voice and I keep edging backward. I have no idea where I’m going to go – Robert is between me and the front door. All I know is that I need to maintain my distance from him.
“I mean that I’ve decided it’s time for us to make the tough choices, Emily,” he replies smoothly. “And I want us to make them together.”
My eyes grow wider than dinner plates when he slides a knife out of a sheath he’s wearing under his coat. My gaze is transfixed on the light gleaming coldly off the long, curved blade. I feel my stomach lurch.
