Page 65 of Return Ticket

He lifted his arm and there was suddenly a gun at the end of it.

Gabriella had never had a gun pointed at her. Had she ever even seen a gun in real life, she wondered?

The thought seemed to come from some far away place.

She moved her gaze from the barrel to the man’s face. His lips had almost disappeared into his mouth, and his eyes couldn’t seem to stay still.

Up until now, he could have claimed she’d let him in to her flat, and they were just talking, but now, he had crossed a very big line.

“Gabby, you home?” It sounded like Jerome, although he never called her Gabby, only Gabriella. She had thought it was James.

The man held a finger to his lips. It shook a little. “Who?” he whispered.

“My neighbor,” she whispered back, terrified he was going to pull the trigger by mistake, out of nerves. “He’ll have seen my light is on.”

“Gabby?” Jerome knocked on the door again.

The man shook his head and made a zipping motion across his lips.

“Gabby, Mr. Rodney said you were hurt today. Are you all right? I’m worried.” Jerome knocked harder.

“Hurt?” the man frowned, voice very soft.

She held out her arm and lifted her sleeve, saw him dismiss the bruises with a shake of disbelief.

“Gabby, I’m worried you’re lying hurt. I’m going downstairs to Mr. Rodney to get his key to your place, I’ll be back.” Jerome shouted the words through the door, and then there was the sound of feet pounding down the stairs.

“Quick, show me the section of road, and I’ll be off.” He lifted the book and held it out to her.

She took it and tried not to look at the door, at the handle slowly turning. She got a little distance from him, moving toward the small kitchen cupboard. “Can I get a pencil to draw it in?” she asked softly.

“Quickly, and don’t make me take this up a notch,” he said, and the gun wobbled a little.

She made it to the drawer and pulled it open on a loud squeak, and at the same moment, the door swung open.

“Police.” James threw the door wide, and she saw his eyes widen in shock at the sight of the gun.

The man spun, but he didn’t forget where she was, either. He moved a few steps deeper into the room, where he could move the gun easily from her to James.

“Now how did she get the police here?” he asked.

“Miss Farnsworth’s boss put in a complaint about you with the Met this afternoon. I’m here to interview her. Part of the file contained your car’s registration number, and I saw your car parked outside. You were visible through her window from the street, and her neighbor gave me the spare key he keeps for her to let me in.” James spoke in an even, reasonable tone, but she saw when he stopped talking that his jaw was clenched tight.

“Bad luck.” The man shook his head, and she thought he muttered a few choice swearwords under his breath. “I don’t want this going any further. Get the neighbor in here, too.”

James turned. “Jerome, he’s got a gun. Please come in.”

Jerome peered in, saw the gun and swore. Stepped in with both hands held up in front of him.

“Go stand in the kitchen,” the man motioned with the gun, and Jerome came to stand beside her.

James began to move as well.

“Uh, uh.” The man shook his head. “You go stand right up against the wall over there.” He pointed with the gun. “I’m going to walk out of the flat, and you are not going to move, or someone might get badly hurt.”

James nodded, lifting his hands like Jerome, and did as he asked.

The man edged to the door, keeping them all in sight the whole way. He pulled out the key he’d pocketed when he’d locked himself inside with her, and with the gun still trained on them, slid it in to the outside lock.

---