"Red, you should come in here."
Baz's voice filters into Red's ear through the cell phone. He'd given Samar a week, but in the end he only wants to wait four days, and he comes to the apartment after five. It's close enough.
"On my way," he says and snaps the burner cell shut. Dembe opens his door and Red steps out of the car. He crosses the street to Samar's building and enters. He strides the hallway to her apartment and walks through the open door. He takes off his hat, strokes it in anticipation. His fingers slide gently along the brim.
"Where is she?" Baz and the two other men have holstered their weapons and are sifting through a pile of paper. The dilation of his pupils is imperceptible to anyone else, as he realizes that white pile is his missive to Elizabeth. Maybe Kate would have known. Yes, probably Kate would have seen the subtle twitch of his eye and cheek, but she isn't here. She is securing the safe house, making sure things will be comfortable for Lizzie.
Red snatches the pile of papers from the men. He folds it into a thick wad without looking at any of it, and stuffs it into the inside pocket of his overcoat.
Baz leads him down the hallway to a room. The door is open a crack, but Baz opens it wider so Red can step through. It is a neat, square of a room with straight, simple curtains hanging from the rods. The bed is made in a pretty comforter, adorned with puffy pillows that look new. He imagines Lizzie lying on it, eyes shut peacefully, fingers entwined over her chest like the Sleeping Beauty.
But she is not lying on the bed.
Where is she? Where the fuck is she?
The closet door is open and inside there are a series of bare hangers, clinging in a row to their rod. Further back in the closet there is a pile of sweaters on a shelf, and a garment bag hanging, zippered shut. He unzips the bag, as though he could catch her in a little game of hide and seek. He remembers the time he found her hiding in the closet, a tiny child clutching a stuffed rabbit. Maybe this is penance. Maybe this is his punishment for falling in love with a woman who he knew as a child. Red pushes the hangers around and then shuts the door. It's no game of hide and seek. He regards the rest of the empty room.
The empty room.
He walks to the dresser and runs his hand over the wood, looks at himself in the mirror. He puts his hat back on. "Is this it then?" He turns to Baz and asks.
"There's another room down the hall," Baz answers and leads the way. This room looks more lived in. It has the faint, feral scent of bodies, and the bed is rumpled and unmade. The closet door is open and the dresser drawers are askew, as if they were opened and shut in haste. Little pouches of clothing peek out of them.
"Is there a safe?"
"Next to the bed, Sir." Baz says. "But it needs a thumb print to open it. We weren't sure what you wanted us to do."
Red approaches the bedside and bends down to regard the small, metal box. As safes go, this one is not particularly complex or challenging. He could have his men open it without issue, but he's feeling a bit peeved. This empty apartment is not the plan. He is supposed to be holding Lizzie right about now, and it is annoying that he is standing here in what he can safely assume is Samar's messy boudoir, looking at sheets that seem very used and could that be a stain of some sort? His brain pieces the scene together, much as he had once constructed an antique music box with all those little nuts and bolts.
He remembers the overt reluctance in Samar's voice on the phone, how it bordered on defiance.
He tosses back the sheets and blankets on the bed so the mattress is completely exposed. There are two crumpled pairs of panties that look as though they were peeled off and carelessly kicked to the foot of the bed, under all the covers. He is tempted to pick them up, but his hand is still clutching the corner or bedclothes, and he can feel the keen eyes of Baz on him, watching his every move. He pulls the covers back up and forces his hand to release its grip on them.
"Well isn't this a fine kettle of fish," he mumbles. He extracts his gun from the holster on his waist. He aims it at the safe. He fires once and the door springs open. He chews the inside of his cheek and growls softly as he sees that inside it is empty, just like the rest of the apartment.
He's seen enough.
He turns on his heel and takes his leave of the little lover's nest he's found.