Page 49 of Brutal
She turns then. She sees me. Rather, she sees the SUV.
For a moment, she just looks. She doesn’t rush out the door. Instead, she turns back to Hank and continues their conversation.
This woman does not fold under pressure. She adjusts to it.
A few minutes later, she comes out.
Her pace is steady. She walks in an even rhythm that doesn’t match the tension I can see in her shoulders.
She feels it now. And she’s careful not to hurry. Not to draw attention to herself.
Good.
I watch her walk toward the lot where she parked.
A few minutes later my phone buzzes with a text.
She’s safely in her car. Looks like she’s heading home to her place.
Good, I respond. Keep eyes on her and make sure she gets there safely. I won’t be far behind. Call if her route changes.
Then I step out of the SUV and cross to the bar. Hank straightens when I walk in.
Too late.
“You talk too much,” I say.
He blinks rapidly. “I didn’t say anything that?—”
I raise a hand. “You said enough.”
He snaps his mouth shut.
I hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary. “Next time,” I say, “you don’t answer any questions at all.”
He nods quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”
I don’t look at him again.
I step back out into the night. But I don’t go home.
I go to her.
Her building is quiet. There’s no real security. No meaningful deterrent. Anyone who wanted access wouldn’t have to work very hard for it.
That’s going to change.
I bypass the front entrance without slowing. By the time I reach her door, I already know she’s inside. I hear faint movement on the other side.
I knock once.
Footsteps. She’s checking me out through the peephole. Already I know she’ll open the door for me.
She does.
She’s still in the same clothes. Hair slightly out of place from the wind. Eyes sharper than they were when she left my house.
That tells me everything I need to know.
