The phone kept buzzing. The vibration seemed amplified as it danced against the metal sheets. My fingers tightened on the key. I slipped it into the lock, smooth as butter.
Whoever was phoning seemed determined. They weren’t taking a breath between calls now.
I paused before turning the key in the lock. My quiet life would be dismantled if I opened this drawer.
Should I?
In a fit of curiosity and… another emotion I refused to name, I opened the latch and plucked the phone out of the charger. It came loose with a pop.
I flipped the burner phone open and stared at the name parading on the screen.
Unknown.
Of course. The people who had access to this line wouldn’t want their number exposed.
I answered the call.
At first, there was silence.
Then a woman’s prim voice echoed over the line. “You answered.”
“Rhia.”
“Deacon. You have a job.”
“It’s been a long ti
me.”
“I’ll send you the location.”
“You’re not going to ask how I’ve been?”
“I’ve never had the patience for small talk. I trust you’ll show?”
“I’m retired.”
“Then why did you answer my call?”
My lips clamped shut. She had a point.
“I understand your… situation.” She choked on the word. “And I arranged for a few days so you can make arrangements. Any objections?”
“You couldn’t find anyone else?”
“Is that a no?”
“It’s a question, Rhia.”
“One I’m not obligated to answer.”
“Who is it?”
She paused. “Does it matter?”
“No.” I answered immediately, honestly. Sentiments had no place in this line of work. And even if I had any hesitation, I knew that most targets had dirty hands. Warranted killings. It made the job easier to swallow.
“Good. We’re all set?”