“Hello?” she answered the phone as though she didn't know who was calling.
“Annie,” the man responded in a low voice that sent chills through her long spine and across her graceful shoulders.
“No one calls me that anymore,” she said defiantly. She was sharp, but she knew he was sharper.
“That doesn't mean it's not your name.”
Annie clutched the phone cord as a tear of anger rolled down her cheek. Her voice quivered.
“My name changed the night Frank died. You know that, honey. After all, you killed him.”
The voice on the other end remained calm and steady.
“Then you know why I'm calling.”
“Yes,” Annie admitted, settling her nerves with a deep breath. “And I'm pretty damn sure I know where you're calling from too, if that's the case.”
“I'm not on the roof,” the voice informed her between sudden heaves. “Not yet, anyway. Who's your little sniper friend up there? A look-out or just another peeping-Tom?”
“Clever. But I only had that problem once.”
“And who took care of it for you?”
There was a moment of silence between them.
“I'm sorry, Annie.”
“Sorry for what? That it's your job? That you didn't do it sooner?”
While she carried on, Annie could hear grunts from the other end as the man climbed what she assumed was the fire-escape next door. Soon he would be on the roof and their conversation would end with her life in the balance. Finally her rant slowed to a quiet sob, and he stopped climbing to answer.
“I'm sorry that I have to do it again.”
The woman laughed through her tears and whispered devilishly into the phone. As she spoke, she walked to the window across the room. The city was dark and covered in smog, but the water beyond it was peaceful and shimmering in the moonlight. She could see her reflection in the glass, and smoothed her long blonde hair with vanity.
“Well, doesn't that just make you a saint!”
“There was never anything sanctified about me, dear, except you.”
“Yeah, I'm a hell-of-a catch.”
Neither said anything for a moment while the man strangled the sniper. Choking and muffled screams could be heard over the line, but Annie had heard it all before and seen far worse. She had learned to block it out. One thing she had never grown numb to, however, was the cocking of a gun, and this brought her back to the moment.
CLICK
“So this is how they feel,” she whimpered as bravely as she could.
“No. They're afraid.”
She moved closer to the window and made eye-contact with her lover on the opposite roof.
“And what am I, then?”
He set his sights…
“You're beautiful.”
… and pulled the trigger.
Books on Sale
