Chapter 14
The sheriff's cruiser idled at the curb and I stood on the sidewalk looking up at my own building like I'd never seen it before. It was just past seven and the streetlights had come on, and the brick looked darker in the damp. Deputy Reyes walked me to the front steps and stopped there.
"You good from here?" he asked.
I nodded. "He's not inside."
Dante was across the street under the awning of the laundromat. Same black jacket, same boots, hands in his pockets. He didn't move when he saw the cruiser, didn't hide. Reyes followed my look, then looked back at me.
"He stays out there until you say otherwise," Reyes said. "You got my card. Lock stays locked. We check back at nine."
I thanked him and he left the cruiser running while I went inside. The entry hall smelled like radiator heat and old wood polish. My apartment door was still the same dark wood with the brass knob, but there was a new deadbolt above it, brushed steel, fresh screws biting into the frame. The super had left a note taped at eye level: "Repaired switch - new plate - call if loose."
I ran my fingers over it before I even put my key in.
The wall switch was the same spot Dante had pinned me against that first night. The old plastic cover had been cracked where my shoulder hit it. Now there was a clean white plate, screwed in tight, and when I pressed it the entryway lamp came on without the flicker it used to have. Warm light filled the little space. The exposed brick caught it, the wooden floor shone, the radiator ticked. Everything was where I'd left it, but the light felt different. It stayed on when I told it to.
I unlocked both locks and stepped inside and didn't close the door right away. I set my bag down on the table by the lamp and stood there breathing. For a week this doorway had been the place where someone else decided what happened to me. I had listened for footsteps in the hall, kept my phone on loud, slept with the chair under the knob. Now the knob was cold under my palm and it was mine again.
A knock came, light, two taps on the open door frame.
Dante stood in the hall. He didn't cross the threshold.
"You can come back later for this," I said, and I saw his jacket hanging over the back of my kitchen chair where he'd left it the night we ran. I hadn't moved it.
He glanced at it, then at me. "I didn't want to assume."
"It's your jacket," I said. "Come get it."
He stepped inside and I closed the dark wooden door behind him, turning the new deadbolt. The click was loud. He noticed. His eyes went to the brass knob, then to the new steel above it.
"They fixed it," he said.
"Super did it this afternoon," I said. I touched the wall switch again, just to see the plate sit flush. "No more loose wires. It doesn't buzz anymore."
He stood near the entryway with his hands still in his pockets, careful not to take up too much space. The lamp threw his shadow long across the floor.
"You didn't have to come back tonight," I said.
"I know," he said. "I wanted to make sure Reyes actually brought you back. And to ask what happens next."
I leaned against the brick, arms crossed, not from cold.
"I want safety first," I said. "Real safety, not just you in the hall. I want to sleep here and not listen for the lock every twenty minutes. I want the truth on record. Reyes has the copy, the lawyer has the copy. That's done."
Dante nodded. "That's good."
"And distance," I added. "I want distance from all of it. From the people who paid you. From what you did before you knocked on my door."
He took his hands out of his pockets. "I want the same things, just from the other side," he said, quiet. "I want you safe. I want the truth out even if it puts me in front of a sheriff. I want distance too, but not the kind where you never get to decide. If you want me gone tomorrow, I'm gone. If you want me to sit in that station and answer every question they have, I will."
I looked at the jacket on the chair. "Where is he now? The boss."
"Chicago," he said. "Penthouse on Wabash. He doesn't run. He thinks the handler falling fixes it. The sheriffs have his name now, but they haven't moved yet."
The radiator hissed. I let that sit between us.
"So he's still free tonight," I said.
"Yes," he said.
I pushed off the wall and picked up his jacket. It was heavy, smelled faintly like outside air and smoke.
"Take it," I said, holding it out. "But you don't get to decide you disappear before this is finished. You wait for my call. You answer Reyes when he calls. No more controlled intensity, no more pulling the story for me."
He took the jacket and didn't put it on. He held it over his arm.
"I can do that," he said.
I walked to the door and rested my hand on the new deadbolt. "I reclaimed this place tonight. I turned the light on and it stayed on. That matters to me."
"It should," he said.
I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door for him. The hall air came in cooler.
"Go home," I said. "Not far. I'll call you in the morning about Chicago."
May you like
He looked at me for a second, then nodded. He stepped out into the hall, and I didn't follow. I stood in my entryway with the lamp warm behind me, the brass knob at my hip, the new steel lock under my hand, watching him walk toward the stairs with his jacket over his arm.
I closed the door after him and locked it again, and the click this time sounded like a choice.
