He hit the guy’s number and heard a phone ringing on the other side of the apartment door.
No answer.
Trying again, he stared at the flashing screen as it rang out for a second time.
‘You in there?’
He thumped the door. Harder. Louder. The noise echoing down the hall.
Nothing.
John Bailey had been standing in the steamy corridor for the last five minutes. Calling. Knocking. Waiting. Where the hell was he? Why would he leave his phone behind…?












Leave a Reply