Prologue
Concealed in the shadows, he watched her through the narrow gap in the curtains. The line of light through the window created the illusion of a face cut in two. Beneath the steady glow, tiny pools of perspiration gathered in his pores. Concerned he might be seen, he took a slow step back, then another, his tread light as he neared the section of verandah where that one weak floorboard sometimes creaked. As he withdrew, the beam of light slid away from his face, returning him to darkness.
She’d showered – her short blonde hair was wet and slicked back, her cheeks flushed from hot water. Barefaced and scrubbed clean, she looked younger. Only the fine lines etched around her eyes, and that way she had of flexing her hands, hinted at her tension.
As he watched, she began her rounds again, checking then rechecking the flimsy window locks, then the two external doors. She neared the window and he held his breath, his heartbeat slowing as she moved off.
He checked the time: eight pm – almost time for her to feed the dog. It slept in the laundry. She’d place the food bowl on the floor, then pull the internal door closed, shutting off the small room from the rest of the house. After it had finished eating, the dog would bark for a minute or so, unhappy to find itself alone.
A minute was all he needed.
Less.
The dog’s bark would be his signal to act – she’d be distracted by its usual yap.
Lock-checking completed, she glanced around the house as if uncertain what to do next. He reminded himself to be careful.
She’d realised a while back that she was being followed.
Was he getting sloppy?
The thought caught him off guard, rattling his confidence. His chest tightened. He should have been more careful. She was smarter than he’d given her credit for, more aware of her surroundings; didn’t get about with her head stuck to her phone all the time like most people. But by the point he’d realised this about her, it had been too late. She was already on to him, jumping at every small sound, looking over her shoulder, always checking, checking, checking.
He inched further away from the window and turned his attention to his phone. As the screen glowed to life, his confidence returned. The file was right where it should be, ready to open when the time came.
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