I Never Told Him She Called

The knock didn’t come again.
He wasn’t impatient.

That told me two things:
One, time did him a favour today.
Two, he knew I’d eventually open the door.

I pocketed the note. Fixed my cuffs.
The door was going to open. Just not on anybody else's terms.

He was there before the door finished opening.
Standing just like the note said he would.
Tall. Precise. Man with the Grey Suit.

Every movement accounted for before it happened.

“Mr.10”

Like he’d kept my name in his pocket.

“Funny,” I said, shoulder against the frame.
”I was just about to call my tailor. Thought someone had upgraded my wardrobe.”

He didn’t laugh.
The corner of his mouth did something that wasn't quite either way.
"That suit isn't yours. What's inside it is mine."

He walked in without asking.
I didn't move to stop him.
I clocked it. Words wouldn’t work on him.

He knew exactly where he was going.
There was no interest in touring the place.
He opened the closet, slid the hangar out, and ran his fingers down the fabric like it owed him something.

“Where did you get this?” I asked.

He turned.
Took his time with it, too.

“Ask the woman who called you last night.”

He knew things he had no business knowing.

“And if I can’t find her?”

He put the suit back.
Smoothed it down.
Fixed his cuffs like this was the movies.

"She'll find you. She always does."

He left the room without another word.

But who told him she called?

To be continued…

Next Chapter — She Came With The Dark.