Page 2 of Allison

“If she hadn’t been out at a bar, of all places, things like that wouldn’t have happened to her!” Aunt Lettie had declared to those gathered in Uncle William’s living room. Several others had murmured their agreements. Allison had been so pissed, she’d told off her entire family, save Emma. When she left, she’d declared she’d never be back.

Emma knew something had happened to upset her, but she hadn’t pushed for details when Allison had declined to talk about it. Emma has never been one to force her to talk. Instead, she waits patiently until Allison is ready. It has always been her super power.

As a nurse, Emma works in a hospital and also volunteers at a free clinic. She is marrying a Marine who is stationed at Camp Lejeune near Jacksonville, North Carolina, where she has lived for the last six years.

Last year, Emma had been to San Diego with her fiancé, Curtis Wallace. Allison had joined the couple and several of Curtis’s fellow Marines for dinner. While they were eating, Emma had asked Allison to be her maid of honor at her upcoming wedding. Allison had promised to consider it. A couple of months later, she had agreed.

Allison yawns, having been up all night. It will be more than thirty hours without sleep by the time she reaches Nashville unless she can catch a nap on the plane. Then, it’s a three and a half hour drive to the resort where the wedding festivities are taking place. Allison types out a text.

Hey Em! Headed to the airport soon…been up all night, so I’ll get a room in Nashville, then see you tomorrow morning. Love you!

Allison’s cell phone flashes low battery. She plugs it into the charger while waiting for her Uber. She hopes Emma won’t be too upset with her for missing out on some of the festivities. The family will have plenty of time to berate her heathen ways once they’ve all arrived. Allison’s thoughts return to Emma.

A few months ago, Emma had informed her of the wedding date and location, insisting Allison be there. Emma and Allison have been the last women of their generation to not be married and settled down. Now, Allison is the last one. The old maid.

A heavy sigh escapes her. Everyone will be on her case the whole time for not settling down with a good man, having babies, and working for the church.Emma doesn’t work for the church.Allison thinks to herself, grumpily, as she finally manages to get her overfilled suitcase to zip shut. “Ha! Got it!”

Allison and Emma have always been very close. They’d been thick as thieves when they were kids but had drifted apart after high school. They’d gone their own way but stayed in touch, talking on the phone almost every night. Allison hadn’t wanted to attend the wedding, because she’d have to deal with her family. Yet, she couldn’t say no. So, here she is at the ass crack of dawn preparing to head to the airport to catch her 6:30 am flight.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on her wall, she grimaces. Her brown hair is pulled up in a messy bun with little fly-aways sticking out. She turns sideways, noticing how her abdomen sticks out. Her grimace increases. She sucks in her stomach, but it does little to hide her belly rolls.

Although she has an hour-glass figure with large breasts and wide hips, Allison has always been self-conscious about her size. She isn’t a classic hour-glass, more like an enlarged version. At only five-foot-five, she’s a bit on the heavier side, though not really obese.

Her eyes drop to her comfy leggings. She should have worn a pair of her jeans, but since she’ll be traveling all day, she’s going for comfort over fashion. Who cares what strangers she’ll never see again think of her attire?

A ding from her phone draws her attention. She pulls it from the charging station on her nightstand. The screen lights up to reveal the Uber app alerting her that her ride is almost here. Ignoring the other messages, she unplugs her charging stand and stuffs it into her carry-on duffle bag.

Throwing the duffle’s strap over her head, securing it to her like a crossbody, she drags the very heavy suitcase from her bed. Thankfully it has sturdy wheels on it so she can roll it to the elevator then out to the waiting car. Hurrying out of her apartment, she slams the door and sprints for the elevator, dragging her suitcase behind her while the heavy duffle beats against her side.

Allison settles into the back seat of a small SUV. Her driver is a dark skinned man with a heavy accent. “You're going to the airport, right?” the man asks after stowing her luggage in the back and taking his seat.

“Yes,” Allison replies, a nagging feeling tugging at her like she’s forgotten something important. She glances out the window at the entrance to her building. A tall, broad-shouldered man is leaning against her building, facing the street, watching her. She shivers under his intense gaze.Stop being paranoid! He isn’t watching you. You’re just jumpy about this trip.

The man pushes off the wall just when her vehicle pulls away from the curb. Allison looks back to watch him stroll over to the door and enter her building. She frowns trying to recall if she’s ever seen him before, but people come and go all the time in a city this size. He must be a new tenant that smokes. They don’t allow smoking in the building. He’s likely down for an early morning smoke. Allison turns around facing forward while trying to force the worry away but not very successfully.

2

BRUNO

Bruno makes his way to the elevator. It never ceases to amaze him how easy it is to get into places he isn’t supposed to be. The elevator trip up to the woman’s floor doesn’t take long. Exiting the elevator, he scans the hallway. All is quiet.

Most of the residents are either still sleeping or at work. He has been watching the woman for weeks, learning her habits, which has been more difficult than he’d anticipated. The woman is a freelance journalist which means she doesn’t keep banker’s hours.

Bruno had found himself nearly getting caught by her more than once. However, he is a professional. There’s no way he would ever allow a silly, insignificant female to get the best of him. Unlike the man who has asked him to make her go away.

Bruno stops outside her door, checking once more that the coast is clear. Kneeling he reaches into his pocket, extracting his kit, and selecting his tools. He sets to work to pick the lock on the knob first, but something isn’t right. His brows lower in concentration. He reaches out and tries the knob. It turns easily in his hand, the door swinging open.

“Well fuck me,” he whispers, losing his tight control for once. He stands, then slips inside the apartment, easing the door closed. That damn woman has surprised him again.She left her door unlocked?

Bruno pauses, scanning the space, listening intently.Is this a set-up? A trap?Nothing but silence greets him. He turns his head, looking around her space, gathering more information about his target. In the corner of the living space there’s a small desk. He stalks over to it. The space is cluttered with a bare spot in the center where normally her laptop would sit, he assumes.

A calendar lays open off to one side. He flips through the pages, stopping to read any notations she’s scribbled down. One appointment catches his eye.

Monday, 2 pm, Butch, Grant Hill Park

Bruno remembers that particular day. He’d followed the woman to the park. A lovely little place with a view of the Coronado Bridge. Tourists and locals alike flock to it. He’d watched as she’d met a man. The two had talked for several minutes before exchanging envelopes.

Bruno had gotten several photos of the man, Butch, then followed him after the meeting had broken up. Butch had gone straight to pick up his little sister from cheerleading practice.

---