The kettle clicking off pulled Allen from his thoughts. He didn’t have a proper coffee machine, so poured boiling water into two mugs and stirred. He smelled the coffee and tried to smile, but couldn’t. He put bread in the toaster and took two plates out, even though he wasn’t sure he could eat anything. He opened the fridge, stared into it, then closed it again, then opened it and grabbed the milk.
His phone buzzed on the counter, and Allen stared at it like it might somehow tell him what to do. He sipped his coffee and stared out of the window, seeing nothing but his laptop screen. He could be wrong about what he’d seen. Misinterpreted the information.
The shower cut off, and Allen heard Rick moving around in the bedroom. Something clinked softly, then steps came toward the bedroom door. Rick came out with damp hair, a clean T-shirt and jeans on, and a towel around his neck. He looked too put-together for Allen’s cramped bathroom and cheap shampoo.
Rick came up behind him and slid an arm around his waist, his chin resting on Allen’s shoulder. “Smells good.”
Allen made a sound that was meant to be a laugh. “It’s toast and coffee. Don’t get excited.”
Rick kissed the side of Allen’s neck, and Allen stood still and let him, trying to treat it like what it was meant to be. Affection. A soft morning touch. Something normal, but his body didn’t cooperate. He stayed tense, and Rick felt it.
Rick paused for half a second, then held on a little longer, and then let go. “I left my charger in my bag,” he said casually. “Can you grab it? It’s in the front pocket.”
Allen swallowed and nodded. “Sure.”
Rick walked back toward the bedroom with his phone in his hand. “I’m going to call someone back. Two minutes.”
“Okay.”
Allen watched him go, then turned to the chair by the couch where Rick’s bag sat. Black, worn at the corners, but clearly expensive. Allen picked it up and placed it on the couch, then unzipped the front pocket. He expected cables. Gum. Sunglasses. His fingers hit plastic instead, and he slowly pulled it out.
A phone.
Furrowing his brow, Allen stared at it. It wasn’t Rick’s because Allen had seen Rick walk into the bedroom holding it. This one was older, smaller, cheap, the kind you bought to use for a week and threw away. The one Rick had was more expensive, not cheap like the one Allen held.
He should’ve put it back. He knew that, but he didn’t. He pressed the side button, and the screen lit up. There was no lock screen photo or wallpaper, and Allen couldn’t see any notifications either. What he did see was plain text and a list. Notes. Allen’s mouth went dry as he stared at the screen.
This could be for privacy, he told himself. Celebrities had burner phones, but even as he told himself that, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at what was written.
The first title dropped his stomach out.
Cass — Briar House Hotel
His fingers tightened around the phone. He stared at the words, then tapped before he could stop himself. The note opened. It wasn’t long. It was just lines. A list.
Room 1218
Camera in corridor
Used stairs
Phone + wallet
No one else there
Done
Allen couldn’t feel his hands properly. Allen swallowed hard and backed out to the list. He could hear his own pulse rush through his body. He could hear Rick in the bedroom, voice low on a call, calm and normal.
Another title sat there, waiting.
Elliot — Friday
Allen’s throat tightened so hard it hurt, but it didn’t stop him from tapping the screen.
10pm
Leaves alone
