Page 9 of Freeing Ruby

“My neighbor, Darren, collects my outgoing packages and takes them downstairs to the mailroom. He also brings me my mail every evening when he returns home from work.”

“Darren? Which apartment is his?”

“He lives next door in 2A.” I point in the direction of my neighbor’s unit. “Darren’s been a huge help—besides bringing me my mail, he takes my trash bags to the trash chute at the end of the hall.”

“How did you meet this neighbor?”

I pause for a moment, having to think back. “He moved into the building about a year ago. He came by to say hello, and we got to talking.”

Miguel looks skeptical. “But how did that lead to him getting your mail for you and taking out your trash?”

“I guess he saw Edward doing it, and he offered to help out. It just sort of grew out of that. Darren didn’t seem to mind, and I hated inconveniencing Edward by asking him to come over so often.”

“Has Darren ever been inside your apartment?”

“No.”

“Has he ever asked to come in?”

I nod. “A few times.”

“And you said no?”

“Yeah. I always made up an excuse. Eventually, he quit asking.”

“How about groceries? How do you get food?”

“My groceries are delivered each week from a small family-owned grocery store two blocks away—Franklin’s Market. Everything else I can order online and have it shipped here. Amazon carries pretty much everything.”

“What about doctor’s visits?”

“I’ve never been sick, but if I were, I can do a virtual visit with a doctor online.”

He nods. “It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

When the timer goes off, I place the dough on the prepared baking sheet, oil my hands, and start forming the pie. He watches me quietly.

So far he’s asking easy questions, but I know the hard ones are coming.

Suddenly, Miguel steps away from the counter, crosses to the pantry, and returns with a jar of pizza sauce, which he sets on the counter.

“Thank you,” I say, caught off guard and a bit surprised at his thoughtfulness.

“No problem,” he says as he returns to his spot.

After shaping the dough, I wash my hands before popping the pizza pan into the oven to prebake. I set a timer for a few minutes.

“What about you?” I ask. I figure turnabout is fair play. Now it’s my turn to ask questions.

“What about me?” he asks, grinning.

I start with an easy one. “How old are you?”

“Thirty.”

“Do you like working in security?”

“I love it. It’s a fantastic career.”

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