“Stop thinking,” I tell myself and quickly press the screen to call his phone.
Unfortunately, it rings and rings until his voicemail clicks on. I hate using voicemail so I hang up and opt to send him a quick text message. Figuring he’s likely on a call, I begin texting him to ask if we can talk once he’s off work but to my surprise my phone immediately begins ringing.
“Emanuel,” I answer.
“Hey, butterfly, I’m sorry I missed your call. Is everything all right?”
“Yes. I was jus—”
My response to Emanuel is cut off when I hear Angela’s blood-curdling screams from downstairs.
“What the hell?” I shout as I run out of the bedroom.
“What’s happening?” Emanuel barks from his line.
I’m too busy running to the door that Angela is now banging on to respond.
“Janine! Janine! Open the door! He’s burning it down!”
“What?” I open the door, and Angela falls in. For a second, I glimpse a figure dressed in all black wearing a ski mask, with something shiny in his hand, trying to run up the stairs.
“Ahh!” I yell, dropping the phone and pulling Angela inside before slamming and locking the door shut behind her.
“H-He’s setting the bar on fire!” Angela screams. “Call 911!”
My entire body begins shaking as I try to barricade the door with one of the lounge chairs from the living room.
“Emanuel, call the police! There’s a man trying to set the bar on fire!” I pick up my phone and yell into it, hoping her hears me on the other end.
****
Emanuel
Pulling out my phone, I frown seeing I have one missed call. I hop off the truck and push out of my coveralls, hanging my jacket up on the hanger where it usually is when I’m on shift. We just got back from a call of a small warehouse fire, and on the way got sidetracked, helping out a man in a car accident.
I was happy to be winding down the end of my shift. I had plans to speak with Janine whether she wanted to or not. Eric had told me she was staying in the apartment above Charlie’sfor the weekend. Those plans were about to be interrupted.
So when I look down at the screen of my phone to see who the missed call is from and discover it’s Janine, a little thrill passes through me. I don’t give it much thought before I’m calling her back, and pressing the phone to my ear as I head up the stairs to my locker.
“Emanuel.”
Her voice alone serves to calm whatever tension had been flowing through me since she walked out of my condo a week prior.
“Hey, butterfly, I’m sorry I missed your call. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I was just—”
The abruptness of which she stops talking alarms me first.
“What the hell?”
That is the question that sends the hairs on the back of my neck standing on ends.
“What’s wrong?” I demand as my hold on the phone tightens.
“I don’t know.”
I can tell by her breathlessness that she’s running or moving quickly.
