Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
As I leave, a twig snaps beneath my foot. The sound seems impossibly loud in the silent night. I freeze, but there’s no movement from inside. Chloe sleeps on, oblivious.
I exhale slowly, my breath a white plume in the air. It’s time to go. I’ve pushed my luck far enough tonight. But I’ll be back . . .
Chapter Seven
Jack
I know her routine. She rarely deviates. Every Tuesday at seven thirty, she emerges from her inherited house that doesn’t quite fit her personality and walks briskly down the street, her heels clicking against the uneven sidewalk. She carries a worn leather purse that’s seen better days, but it’s large enough to carry a laptop which she often does but not always. Today, she’s carrying the laptop. I can tell by the slight tilt of her shoulder, compensating for the extra weight. Her hair is pulled back in a tight bun, not a strand out of place. She’s wearing that navy blue jacket again, the one with the slightly frayed cuff that she thinks no one notices.
As she rounds the corner heading to catch the morning ferry to Manhattan and Pete’s Cafe, I slip out of my hiding spot, knowing this is my time to act. Her home will be empty. Now all I have to do is get inside.
I already know she doesn’t have a key under a flower pot or beneath a rock. I have one chance. I’m hoping her neighbor is my ticket in. I’ve observed their interactions: friendly waves, occasional cups of sugar borrowed, conversations as they collect their mail. If anyone has a spare key, it’s him.
“Mr. Haven,” I say as the elderly man opens the door. He’s wearing a faded flannel robe and fuzzy slippers, his wispy white hair sticking out in all directions. His rheumy eyes squint at me in confusion. “I don’t know if you remember me but—”
“Oh yes, you’re the nice gentleman who helped me the other day when I fell on the ice.” He glances over my shoulder to the scene of the incident.
I nod, relieved he remembers. “That’s right. I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing today.”
Mr. Haven’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Oh, I’m right as rain, thanks to you. Just a few bruises, nothing serious.” He pauses, then adds sheepishly, “Though I must admit, I’m a bit embarrassed about the whole thing. Slipping like a newborn colt at my age.” Mr. Haven’s gaze lingers on my uniform. “You’re in uniform today.”
I chuckle softly, looking down at my uniform. “Ah, yes. I was off duty when I helped you. Today I’m on my way to the station for my shift.”
Mr. Haven’s eyes light up with interest. “I always wanted to be a fireman when I was a kid. I bet you have some great stories.”
I smile, nodding. “It certainly keeps life interesting. But listen, I was hoping you could help me out. Chloe mentioned that her fire detectors were beeping and driving her crazy. I said I’d swing by and replace the batteries for her and check them. I knocked on her door and she’s not home. But since I’m here, I was hoping you’d have a key so I could run in really quick before I head off to work.”
Mr. Haven hesitates, then smiles. “Of course. That’s so nice of you. People these days don’t seem to look out for each other like they used to. It’s refreshing to see someone so willing to help.” He shuffles back into his house, returning a moment later with a small key. “Here you go. It’s the spare Chloe gave me for emergencies.”
I take the key, feeling its weight in my palm. “Thank you, Mr. Haven. I really appreciate this. I’ll pop in, change those batteries, and be on my way.”
“Take your time, young man. I’m sure Chloe will be grateful.” Mr. Haven’s eyes twinkle. “And maybe next time you’re off duty, you can stop by and share some of those firefighter stories. I’d love to hear them.”
“Of course.” As I turn toward Chloe’s apartment, I notice that the snowflakes that were falling lightly have picked up intensity, swirling in the air and accumulating on the ground. “Actually, when I’m done with her alarms, I’m going to shovel your walkway and put salt down if you have any. Let’s get you ready for the upcoming storm coming this afternoon.”
“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” Mr. Haven says, his voice warm with gratitude. “The salt’s in the garage, but don’t trouble yourself too much. I know you’re on your way to work.”
I wave off his concern. “It’s no trouble at all. I’ve got plenty of time before my shift.”
With a final nod to Mr. Haven, I make my way to Chloe’s door. The key slides smoothly into the lock, and I step inside. The house is quiet and dark, with a faint scent of cinnamon in the air. I pause for a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the dimness. The living room is tidy, with a plush couch and a bookshelf filled with colorful spines. I take a moment to take in the part of her house I’ve never seen. I’ve committed every inch of her bedroom to memory from all my time standing outside her window, but this is all new territory for me. The space is exactly as I imagined it would be—cozy and inviting, just like Chloe herself. I resist the urge to explore further and remind myself why I’m here. Focus on the task at hand.