“Mrs. Gable… please open up. I believe my wife left something in your apartment that belongs to me…”
I didn’t respond immediately.
My hand drifted steadily toward my oak cane. Not because I believed I could actually defeat him with it… but because it gave my hands something to hold onto. Something to keep my fingers occupied so my heart wouldn’t explode from my chest.
Sarah turned to stone.
I could hear her breath catching—short, frantic, shallow. Leo began to whimper, softly initially, then louder, as though he could sense the suffocating tension in the air.
The knocking resumed. Much harder this time.
“Mrs. Gable… I know she’s in there.”
His tone remained perfectly pleasant. That was the most terrifying part of all.
I glanced over at Sarah.
She shook her head frantically. Her wide eyes pleaded with me: do not open it.
But I realized… he wasn’t simply going to walk away.
And the longer we delayed, the more explosive the situation would become.
I paced slowly toward the entryway.
Every single step felt like a permanent decision.
When I finally stood before the wood, I called out:
“Who is there?”
“David, ma’am. I simply want to speak with my wife.”
Just speak.
I unlocked the deadbolt but kept the heavy brass security chain engaged. The door cracked open just a narrow sliver.
He was standing out in the hallway.
Crisply dressed.
Clean-shaven.
His eyes utterly calm.
If I bumped into him at the grocery store, I’d assume he was a perfectly respectable young man.
That is exactly how predators operate.
