“Leon,” I say firmly. “What note? What are you talking about?”
He unfolds a piece of paper, skimming it. “You said you’ve been looking for somewhere to rest your head, for a home that will last forever. You said you would die for me. You described the depths you would go to for me. You said that if I want something,I just have to ask for it.” He looks up at me when he’s done, eyes dopey and unfocused.
I tighten my hand around the weapon. There’s definitely something wrong with him.
“Can I have that note, please?”
“No,” he says, crushing it to his chest. “I’m going to keep it forever, Rosy. I just wanted you to know”—he shakes his head, hard—“I had to tell you to your face, so you could see it in my eyes: I don’t like you at all.”
This actually stuns me.
“I have a wife,” he whispers, his eyes going wide. “And you are very beautiful, Rosabelle No-last-name, but my wife is much more beautiful than you, and I know in my heart that we aren’t meant to be together because I don’t like you at all. I love someone else, and I’ll love her forever, and she is so much better than you in every way”—he lowers his voice—“and I know that this is very sad for you.”
“Leon.”
“Yes, Rosy?”
“Where is your wife?”
He shakes his head again, this time so hard his hair flops around. “I don’t know,” he says, leaning into me. “Do you know? Did he tell you where they took her?”
“Who? Who took her from you?”
“Youdoknow,” he says. “Youdoknow who took her, because it’s happened to you, too.” And then he starts crying, his face crumpling. “Oh, Rosy, can you feel it happening again?”
I take a breath. At first I thought maybe Leon had simply lost his mind, but now I’m starting to worry. “Feel what happening?”
He looks around, shoulders tight, the tears stopping as suddenly as they started. “I can feel it happening again, Rosybelle. You can feel it, too.”
“Leon.”
“Yes?”
“Please give me that note.”
“No,” he says loudly. Angrily. “It’s mine. You said you’ve been looking for somewhere to rest your head, for a home that will last forever. You said you would die for me. You described the depths you would go to for me. You said that if I want something, I just have to ask for it.”
“Leon—” I try again, reaching for the paper.
“No!” He whips away wildly, breathing fast. “You said you’ve been looking for somewhere to rest your head, for a home that will last forever. You said you would die for me. You described the depths you would go to for me. You said that if I want something, I just have to ask for it.”
Pay attention.
Intuition tells me to take a cautious step back.
Leon straightens, his forehead smoothing, his shoulders drawing back. He seems to slot into his body, growing back into himself, the sharp lines of his face catching shadows. His eyes gleam like flat coins and I clench the butterknife a little tighter.
“You’re not the only one here,” he says, smiling. “You’re not the only one.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re not special,” he snaps at me.“And if you don’t do it, someone else will.”
Pay attention.
If you’re smart enough, you’ll see it coming.
“Do what?” I say, hoping to guide him with my voice to remain calm. “I need you to give me more information—”
