Page 3 of She Belongs to Me
I groaned, feeling even antsier than before. “I was in the shadows, but the group of men knew I was there. I took off running, finally ending up in the bar.”
“You need to contact the police. Now.”
“And tell them what? I didn’t see the guy’s face who did the… act. I couldn’t tell you anything and you know how the DC police are.”
“But that’s crazy. Maybe you can help locate the killer,” she insisted. “You can’t run.”
“And maybe talking will get me killed!” I was a little angrier, more vehement than I’d intended, but I was certain doing so would put a larger target on my back. I sipped wine.
So did she.
A full two minutes passed by.
“What if they saw your face?” she asked, fear now creeping into her voice.
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“What about your car?”
“I’m not stupid. I knew better than to try and run toward it. That’s why I called you. You can take me to get it in the morning.”
She nodded as if still processing what was going on. “O-kay. If you say so. Are you okay?” She was in disbelief, not processing anything about what I’d told her. It did sound more like a cop television drama, not real life. Things like that didn’t happen to nice girls like us.
“Just shaken. Obviously.”
“O-kay. I think I’m going to bed.” Her abrupt end to the conversation was surprising, but her face was pale.
As she got up slowly, I realized she might be in more shock than I was. I had a feeling mine was delayed. I watched her head to the bedrooms, stumbling a little as she was doing so. What could I say to her that would matter at this point? Nothing. I wasn’t certain what I’d seen had been real.
When I was alone, I gulped more wine, finally finding the strength to get to my feet. Just sitting here wasn’t going to do me any good. After turning off the light, I dared head toward the window, standing off to the side and peering out.
That’s where I remained for a full five minutes. There were no strange people, no SUVs driving by. Just the usual traffic on a Thursday night. Maybe I’d gotten away. Hopefully.
All I could do was go about my life. Right?
What other choice did I have?
Nothing extraordinary or weird happened either when Sherry dropped me off to get my car or during two of my three classes. This was it, other than finals beginning the next Wednesday. It would give me a break to hide behind closed doors. Great. Now I was hiding. How long could I keep that up?
I tried to concentrate as the professor clamored on about what would be on the finals, but I had a buzzing in my ears, images of the murdered victim rolling in my mind. I’d yet to see anything in the news, but with the numerous killings in the city, it might be considered low on the totem pole. I’d almost called the bakery to see if it was open, but thought better of it.
While I didn’t want to disturb anyone, I pulled out my phone. The ringer was already off. I carefully searched the internet, trying to discover any new news reports. It took a few minutes, but something popped up I hadn’t seen before.
A gangland-style killing at a small, local bakery. There were very few details because the case was an ongoing investigation, but what was reported was enough to chill me to the core.
I studied the limited photographs, one including members of the forensics team going into the small shop. Another icy hand of terror clawed at my neck this time.
The class needed to be over with or I might go crazy. I glanced at the clock, breathing a tiny sigh of relief. Finally, the professor was putting his last statements together and we were done. There were three hundred people in the class, all jumping up at the same time. That hid the fact a courier must have walked in.
I only noticed the young man in uniform when he was in front of the professor, who pointed to me seconds later.
My blood was now frozen. I tried to walk down the steps, heading toward the professor.
“Ms. Christian?” the young man asked.
“Yeah. I mean yes, that’s me.”
“A delivery for you. No tip needed. That was taken care of.” He handed me a manila envelope, half sheet size.