Change of Heart - By S.E. Edwards Page 0,18
if he has all the time in the world.
I look left, then right, then close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Help me up.”
***
“Wow,” I exhale. “They really did a number on this place, didn’t they?”
We’d climbed all the way up without the ladder toppling over. Now, I’m looking into Rich’s apartment through the window. Even though there’d never been much there, what little remains is almost beyond the point of recognition. The blankets have been thrown off the bed and torn to pieces. The pillows look like a pack of rabid dogs has been at them. The little corner TV is nothing more than shattered glass and broken pieces of electronics.
Rich grunts in reply. He hooks his fingers under the window frame, preparing to pry it open. I see his forearm muscles strain. He heaves, pulls up—and the window slides as smoothly as if it were greased with oil.
“Funny,” he remarks, “they didn’t lock it.”
He pulls himself inside and gives me a hand to follow. My eyes dart over the floor, seeking my purse.
I don’t see it.
A hollow feeling hits me in the gut. My knees almost buckle under me. My purse… everything in there could be replaced, everything could be substituted somehow… except for one thing.
The sides of my vision begin to darken. I feel alone, lost. The walls start to close in on me.
Rich must have noticed. He puts his hand on my shoulder gently. “Look around,” he suggests, his voice soft and warm. “Maybe it’s hidden under something.”
His touch brings me back to myself. The anguish flickers away. “Of course,” I mumble, feeling like an idiot. I pull myself together, and start upturning the ripped up remains of Rich’s bed. Rich moves away.
“Clever,” he says from the front door, a few moments later.
“What?”
“They put a garbage bag over the hole and police tape on the outside.” He opens the door to show me the yellow tape. “So that it doesn’t look suspicious.”
“Huh.” I glance from my search—and freeze. A shiver runs down my spine. “Um, Rich, did you see that?”
He turns his attention to what I’m looking at. A scowl passes across his face. “No,” he says. “I’ve glanced over that wall so many times I’ve lived here, I didn’t even notice… No.”
There are words carved into the plaster of one wall. The letters are crude and chipped:
THIS IS A WARNING.
I walk up beside Rich, and trace my fingers over the wall. The harsh edges of the letters make the message even more ominous.
“They did that with a knife?” I ask, stunned.
“Or an axe,” Rich comments beside me.
I give him a hard look. “Don’t scare me.”
“I’m serious. You said you wanted to know what was going on.”
Something occurs to me, and I walk to the corridor in Rich’s apartment. “Huh. They didn’t touch your boxes.”
“I know.” Rich comes up to me. “Any luck with your purse?”
“Not yet, but—”
“Wait, isn’t that it over there?” Rich points to the corner of the room, where the remains of the TV lie scattered. I hadn’t looked there yet because I didn’t want to pick my way through the broken glass barefoot. Sure enough, peeking out from beneath the rubble is the familiar skinny black strap of my bag.
Throwing caution to the wind, I rush toward it. Rich catches my arm. When I try to tug free, he doesn’t let go.
“Let me,” he says. “I have shoes.”
I nod, but am dying with impatience. Rich crosses the room, squats down by the TV, and lifts my purse up by the strap. “This it?” he asks, smiling.
I run to meet him in the center of the room. I snatch the purse from his grip and rip it open, then rifle through it with a ravenous hunger. When my fingers close around the familiar shape of my locket, I let out a magnificent sigh of relief. Like the sound of a hundred waterfalls breaking from the winter frost all at once.
Never, never, never! I promise myself. Never will I let it leave my side again. I clutch the locket to my chest and let the purse drop to the floor. After a long moment, I hang it around my neck. I should have never taken it off.
An annoyed grunt from Rich brings me back to the present. I open my eyes, and see him kneeling on the floor over my bag. “Penny,” he says gravely, “your wallet is not in here.”
Chapter Four
“So what the hell do we do now, Rich?” I’m freaking out.