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A big, fat, dead rat was bleeding on the crisp white pillow.
A note was carelessly placed next to the dead rodent. The script was hard to read and clearly quickly written.
Leave France, and do not come back.
“Tell me that isn’t a sign that I need to get the hell out of here!” she cried into her phone as soon as Joan picked up. Caroline sent her a picture of the rat and waited for Joan to respond.
The other woman was silent for a few seconds too long before she begrudgingly said, “Okay. I’ll admit that looks bad. I guess we can’t have you stay there. I’ll book you a flight tonight.”
Caroline shivered and ended the call. “Let’s just hope that’s fast enough for whoever left me this.”
* * *
The small carry-onsuitcase rolled beside her on the carpeted floor. Caroline glanced in the hallway before rushing for the elevator. She pressed the Down button and held her breath until the elevator doors slid open to let her in.
She frantically pushed the Close button before jamming the Lobby button at least ten times. She would be a ball of nerves until she was on the flight back home, surrounded by people.
A cold and terrible thought ran across her mind. What if she was on the flight when the man in black attacked? Was an international flight all that safe?
I watch too much true crime. This is real life.
Thankfully, the elevator doors opened to the busy lobby. She checked out and asked for a taxi to the airport.
Caroline didn’t feel calm until she was through the security gates at the airport. Surely, no one could harm her in the airport. There were metal detectors everywhere, and the whole place was packed with travelers and staff. The man in black would have to be insane to attack her here, of all places.
“Passenger Caroline Knight, please report to the InterAir desk,” a garbled voice spoke over the airport speakers just as Caroline sat at her gate.
Her entire body went rigid. With a hollow sensation in the pit of her stomach, she made her way over to the InterAir desk.
“Your flight’s been changed,” the woman said to her when Caroline gave her name.
“Changed?” the bottom of her stomach dropped. “Changed to what?”
“You’re going to land at Heathrow for a short layover before catching your connection to America.”
“What? That makes no sense. No. I want a direct flight.”
“Well,” the woman sniffed loudly. “I want to quit this job and be a famous singer. We all have things we want, but that doesn’t mean we can have them.”
“But …“ Caroline had a feeling she could argue with this woman all she wanted, but it wouldn’t change a thing.
She had to stay calm.
* * *
The short flightfrom Paris to London had been bumpy, and her layover had gone from two hours to seven hours. Her already frayed nerves could barely handle it. She went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face and remind herself that she was okay. That she would be just fine. Another layover wasn’t all that bad, no matter how long it was.
Caroline stood in the bathroom, wiping water from her face, when she sensed something was wrong. She opened her eyes, and a sharp gasp tore out of her.
The man in black was there.
In. The. Women’s. Bathroom.
There was no mistaking his scar. He pounced on her and slammed her head against the wall. She cried out, her eyes closing against the onslaught of pain.
“You shouldn’t be here. You were told toleave.”
“I am leaving,” she panted. “I’ve got a flight.”
