Chapter 6 - Returning to the Edge of Town
The dashboard clock glowed a pale, steady green: 11:42 PM. In the back seat, the little girl was completely still, her breathing deep and even, exhaustion having finally overtaken the confusion of the evening. I kept my eyes fixed on the rearview mirror, watching the small pink cardigan bunched up beneath her head like a makeshift pillow. Every shadow cast by the sparse streetlamps along our old cul-de-sac felt like a lingering eye, a reminder that the perimeter of our lives had been mapped, measured, and monitored down to the last second.
I slowed the sedan, turning onto the quiet side street where Mrs. Gable lived. Her house was easy to spot—the porch light was always left burning, a small amber beacon behind a dense row of overgrown boxwood hedges. I parked three doors down, killing the engine and the headlights simultaneously. The sudden silence inside the cabin felt heavy, almost fragile, as if the slightest noise might shatter whatever protection we had left.
Unlatching my seatbelt, I stepped out into the cool night air and walked around to the rear door. I opened it as quietly as the worn hinges allowed, sliding my hands beneath the girl’s shoulders and knees. She stirred just enough to murmur something unintelligible, her small hand instinctively catching the lapel of my dark blazer before going limp again as I lifted her against my chest.
Mrs. Gable answered my single, subdued knock before my knuckles could tap a second time. The heavy oak door swung inward, revealing the elderly woman in a faded floral duster, her silver hair pinned back with severe precision. Her eyes skipped past my face, dropping immediately to the sleeping child in my arms. There was no startled gasp, no theatrical display of confusion—just a sharp, tightening line to her mouth that spoke of a lifetime of keeping quiet around other people's storms.
"She fell asleep in the car," I whispered, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears. "Can I leave her here for a few hours, Mrs. Gable? Just until morning."
Mrs. Gable stepped back, holding the door wide and gesturing with a slight tilt of her head toward the narrow hallway leading to the guest room. "The bed's made. I keep the spare sheets on year-round, you know that. Bring her on back."
I carried the girl down the carpeted hall, lowering her gently onto the twin mattress beneath a patchwork quilt. I pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair back from her forehead. She let out a long, quiet sigh, her face relaxing entirely against the pillow. I stood there for a long moment, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, feeling the sharp, cold edge of a decision hardening behind my ribs.
When I walked back out to the front room, Mrs. Gable was waiting by the small drop-leaf desk near the front window. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her fingers tapping rhythmically against her elbow.
"You're not staying, are you?" she asked quietly.
"I have to go downtown," I said.
Mrs. Gable walked toward the front door with me, her slippers making no sound on the hardwood floor. She stopped by the umbrella stand, her gaze drifting out through the glass pane of the door toward the dark street outside.
"You keep your head down while you're out there tonight," she said, her voice dropping an octave. "And keep your eyes on the curb. Those utility trucks have been idling down by the corner since Tuesday. Men in gray coats. Not the kind that fix the power lines, either. They spent twenty minutes looking at my meter box yesterday afternoon before I tapped on the window with a skillet."
My hand froze on the brass door handle. "Utility trucks?"
"Two of them. Dark gray, no company logos on the doors," Mrs. Gable said, looking straight at me with pale, sharp eyes that missed very little. "They were running cables through the storm drain access near the end of the block. I’ve lived on this street forty-two years, David. I know what the phone company looks like, and I know what men look like when they’re hiding in plain sight."
"Thanks for watching her," I said, pulling the collar of my blazer up against the rising wind. "I'll be back before daylight."
"See that you are," she said softly, before pulling the door shut behind me with a quiet, solid click.
May you like
The night air hit my face with a sharp chill as I walked back to the car. I slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and pulled away from the curb without turning on the headlights until I reached the main thoroughfare. The dashboard navigation system glowed with the route downtown, pointing toward the low-rise professional park where the server logs waited. I shifted into drive, pressed my foot down on the gas, and left the residential streets behind in the dark.
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