Tim drew in a deep breath. She had to know, though it pained him to say it, she had to know. "Do you have a twin sister, Anita?"
"Yes." Alarmed, she added, "Is she alright?"
"Uh—Miss Sheldon," Tim began as gentle as he could. "Anita was murdered."
Chapter three: Ann
--
Ann's lips fell. Shocked, numb and shaking her head at them in disbelief.
Tim continued. "She was found on Pratt Street by someone who identified her as your sister.
"No," Ann said obstinately. "That person is wrong. Anita is home."
"Miss Sheldon," Tim answered, seeing she was in denial he wanted to be careful. "Anita isn't home."
She shook her head again with a smirk on her lips. "You've got the wrong information. I'm going home." Ann hopped down from the bed.
Frank held out his hand, blocking her. "Before you go, do you have a white envelope?"
Ann furrowed her eyebrows, comprehending his question, and then the teacher recalled what had been found on her car window. "Yes," she replied as if in a daze. "Why do you want it?"
"It's related to the murders and--,"
"You still think Anita was murdered," Ann shouted. There had been an awkward silence after that. Ann managed to calm down and moped over to her coat and briefcase that lay on a chair. She opened the briefcase, slowly pulling out the wrinkled envelope. Something slid from one side to the other. "I was too exhausted to open it. I figured I'd wait until I got home."
The envelope hadn't been sealed tight. Effortlessly, she peeled it open. Taking out a three-fold note, her eyes widened at what had been written. And they widened even more while studying the necklace…a gold necklace with the name 'Anita' in fancy letters. Ann dropped the necklace, note and envelope onto the floor. She then grabbed her coat, briefcase and stormed into the chaotic hall.
Tim rushed after her. "Miss Sheldon!"
She braked in her tracks, frozen where she stood; and then Ann swayed a little as she faced him.
Tim looked down with profound concern at the petite woman. "Are you okay? The doctor is right--," he glanced at the swollen, ruddy bruise above her left eye. "You should stay and get more tests done."
"I'm fine," Ann said coldly.
"Well, I don't think you should go home alone. Is there anyone you can call?"
Ann's eyes meandered to the floor. She nodded, trying desperately to hide her fear, the reality of Anita's murder. She met his gaze again, a gaze that lingered in a way that shouldn't have happened. Uneasy, she said, "I have to go."
"Wait,"
Annoyed with his persistence, she huffed while noticing what looked like a small business card in Tim's hand.
"Here's my number at the precinct. Don't hesitate to call if you need any help."
Ann took the card, peeked at it; her eyes warily glanced at him again and then she marched away from him. Flustered, Tim sighed while watching her breeze past harried nurses and doctors.
--
Another morning. Another victim. Tim had to drag himself out of bed, wishing he could take a break from pondering a case that absolutely made no sense. Questions…so many questions and still no suspects. Yes, there were the necklaces they assumed the killer purchased. That would have made sense unless…interrupted by a sudden thought Bayliss hesitated from writing Sheldon in red on the board. He then proceeded, writing it quickly, and before telling Frank about his thought, he hurried off inside the small cafeteria. Munch had also been there, sitting at the table with Bolander and Lewis who had already eaten half of his jelly donut. They were discussing the Waterfront bar, but to Tim, they might as well been talking at a vast distance; his mind in constant motion as he poured coffee into a cup. While stirring milk into it, he looked up at the television. A female reporter stood outside the precinct…
"After the third victim had been found yesterday afternoon, many women, particularly those who are twenty-nine years old don't feel safe on the streets. There are still no suspects and although this person has not been identified, on the street, the attacker is known as the twenty-nine killer. Live outside the Baltimore City Police Department, this is Maria Delgado--,"
Her voice faded along with every other sound around Tim Bayliss. He stared unblinking at the television. Two victims flashed vividly in his mind…the third, Anita Sheldon, and another victim haunting him relentlessly…Adena.
"Tim?"
A voice brought him back to the present. Bayliss could no longer fight the blinking reflex and his eyes fluttered a few times. He turned, seeing that it was Meldrick who called him.
"You okay?"
He glanced at Munch and Bolander as if for a moment he had been confused.
Munch leaned against the table with crossed arms against his chest. "You look flushed."
"Yeah," Lewis agreed, looking at Tim again. "You do."
"I'm alright."
"You sure?" said Lewis, "Because when I asked if you were gonna be at the bar tonight, you just stood there, like you was in a trance or something."
"I can't be at the bar tonight. I—uh, I gotta work on this case." Tim strode away from them and suddenly halted at the interrogation room known as 'the box' Stepping inside, he sipped some coffee, placed it onto the table and stared at numerous pictures of victims on a board. His eyes darted to Anita. Tim squeezed them shut, thinking about Ann. He knew it had to be hard for her, losing not only a sister but also a twin. Was she still in denial? He needed to do something to help her, and what consumed his thoughts, what frightened him greatly…she was twenty-nine.
At that moment, Frank entered the room. "Tim."
Bayliss opened his eyes. Turning, he stared exhaustedly at Pembleton standing in the doorway.
Frank had gone on to say, "Gee wants to see us."
Both detectives stood inside the Lieutenant's office, watching Gee pacing anxiously near his desk until he stopped.
"Do you have anything, anything besides the victims bought the necklaces?"
Frustrated again, Tim shook his head. "No, we don't."
Gee shot an annoyed glance at Tim and Frank but he went on calmly. "Everyone you interviewed, they all have alibis and they didn't see anyone suspicious? No one knows anything."
Tim and Frank were uncomfortably silent.
"You're missing something--," Gee let out an irritated sigh. "You know we're getting pressure from the media about this. And not only the media…Barnfather is asking questions about why there aren't any suspects."
Frank answered, "We're aware of that."
"Women who are twenty-nine or close to it are panicking."
"Gee," Tim politely interrupted. "I thought of something while writing Sheldon on the board. We know the victims bought the necklaces. Why would three women buy the same necklaces? It's possible these women were involved romantically with the killer. I believe whoever this person is had manipulated them into buying the necklaces. The killer won't be seen in the store, only the women."
"If you believe these women were romantically involved with the killer, then interview their family and friends again about anyone they were dating presently, ex-boyfriends, ex-husbands. What about Anita's sister, Ann? Find out if she knows anything." Gee's facial features hardened. "Tim, close this case."
--
5 P.M.
The white car…its tires gingerly rolled down the street of brownstone apartments. Bayliss sat behind the wheel, looking through the window at each house. "3282 Pratt Street," he mumbled. "3282…there it is."
After parking, Tim and Frank got out of the car and looked up at the old brownstones that were rather dreary, run down on the outside. They clambered the steps until reaching the glass door protected by bars of black filigree wrought iron. Tim saw the name 'Sheldon' under the bell and pressed it. No answer. He rang the bell again and then…
"Who is it?" came a stoic, uninviting female voice through the intercom.
"It's Detective Tim Bayliss and my partner."
They expected to hear a 'buzz' Instead; there had been nothing but cold silence. Tim peeked at Frank.
Pembleton said, "Maybe she uh, needs to put on something more appropriate."
"Or maybe she doesn't wanna let us in."
A sudden buzz cut their conversation. Frank grasped the handle and while opening the door he smiled at Bayliss. "Don't be so negative, Tim."
Tim smirked at Frank's remark and proceeded into the brownstone. Frank followed him inside the dim foyer lit by a small three-tiered chandelier. They sauntered past a stairway and continued onward to the end of the hall, to apartment one…the only apartment on that floor that was just as dreary as the outside. Tim grasped the doorknocker, tapping three times. Again they waited. Click. Click. Locks were unlocked. The door creaked open and Ann's petite face peered through the tiny crack.
Tim hesitated to speak, lost in her gaze, her eyes the shade of warm honey had drawn him in, like what happened at the hospital. "What's going on?" he thought. Quickly shrugging away his feelings, he focused on what he should be doing. "Miss Sheldon? We're sorry to bother you but we need to ask you some questions."
Ann opened the door wider. Bayliss could now see all of her in a black Kimono-style caftan. She quietly let them inside. This time they walked through a shorter foyer and beneath an arch that led them into the immaculate living room.
"Do you want anything?" Ann asked. "Coffee? Tea?"
Tim and Frank eyed one another and then Pembleton replied, "No, thank you. We're fine."
"Well," said Ann. "Don't be shy. Have a seat."
Frank sat down on a black vinyl chair nearby the matching sofa. Tim stayed where he was, standing near the tiny fireplace. He noticed it was black marble like most of Ann's furniture. On the mantle he saw pictures; one Bayliss assumed were her parents. The other picture…two young girls sitting together, identical twins with cheery smiles frozen on their faces. There were more pictures of them that appeared to be had been taken recently. Tim picked up one of the portraits. "Is this Anita?" he wondered.
Ann walked up to the detective, stopping a few feet from where he stood. And though she wasn't standing in front of Bayliss, her perfume, a scent of mandarin orange hadn't gone unnoticed in the air around him.
"That's me," said Ann calmly as if there had been no murder. "The other picture, that's Anita.
"Wow, it's amazing. I can't tell the difference."
"I'm sure when she was found, you couldn't say that then. But when you saw me in the ER, it was like you've seen me before."
"The eyes," Tim reminded her. "I recognized the color and the hair." He shot a quick glance at Pembleton, noting his partner's expression that read, 'I-have-a-feeling-something's-up' Uneasy, Tim cleared his throat, set the picture back onto the mantle and awkwardly sat down on the sofa. Ann seated herself at a short distance beside him.
"Miss Sheldon," Tim began with a question he had already known. "Where did Anita work?"
Ann's eyes roamed over to Anita's picture. "She was a teacher like me. I work at the elementary school. Anita worked with high school students."
And when Bayliss heard she told the truth, he continued. "Your parents, I'm sure they're devastated--,"
Ann coldly blurted, "Our parents are dead."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"As for the rest of the family, we were never close to them. It was just me and Anita. She lived here for many years. Now--," Ann faltered as tears would burst from her eyes at any moment. She managed to stop that from happening and the frigid expression returned on her face.
Frank questioned, "Do you know about Kellie's jewelry shop or any other jewelry store?"
"No. Anita never wore necklaces with her name on it. Heart necklaces…that's what we liked to wear."
Tim stared at her hair. In the ER, her fringed bangs were hidden beneath a headband. His eyes fell down to the diamond heart necklace around the collar of Ann's caftan. "It's pretty."
"What is?"
"Your necklace."
Ann stared at him warily and uneasy about his compliment. She gave him a faint smile. "Thank you."
Frank asked another question. "Was Anita dating anyone?"
"No."
"Is there anyone you're involved with?"
Ann glanced at Tim. Immediately she looked away, fixating her eyes on the coffee table. "No," said Sheldon.
"Any ex-boyfriends?"
"We didn't date much so I can't say we had any ex-boyfriends. I told you, it was just me and my sister."
Tim had a thought. "What was Anita like? Was she shy? Outgoing?"
"She was very shy."
"What about you? You seem more outgoing."
"I had to be aggressive, especially with Anita. Our parents died in a car accident when we were teenagers. We had to live with my Aunt Thelma but I'm the one who took care of us."
Frank had taken his turn again. "Miss Sheldon, Anita was found in the morning. She wasn't home with you?"
"No. She told me she wanted to spend the weekend with our aunt. I wondered why but I couldn't stop her."
"From what you're saying, it seems you were offended by her wanting to spend time with your aunt."
"Because I'm the one who took care of her. She liked our aunt more than I did so yeah…I was offended. When she didn't call or come home Sunday, I knew something was wrong." Ann peeked at her sister's picture again and then she shifted her attention back to the detectives. "Are there anymore questions because I have a lot of papers to grade."
Tim answered, "No more questions. We'll let you get back to work."
They stood and when reaching the door, Tim stopped. "Frank," he whispered, "I'll meet you in the car."
"I thought we were done?"
"We are. I just—I need to talk to her about something."
"Uh-huh. Okay, Tim. I'll meet you in the car."
Bayliss waited for Frank to leave and then he had gone back into the living room. A surprised Ann rose from the sofa and walked up to him. "I thought you left? I said I have a lot of work to finish."
"Miss Sheldon, I'm concerned."
"Concerned?" she remarked harshly. "You don't know me."
"You're twenty-nine, that's a good reason for me to be concerned about your safety."
"I'll be alright."
"You need protection. I'll talk to my boss and see if I can get an officer to--,"
Ann shook her head. "Then I'll be a prisoner. I refuse to live like that. Look, I have a responsibility to my students and I will not let this person stop me from living my life."
"I understand you have a responsibility to your students but you have to take care of yourself first. Your sister was murdered and I wanna make sure you'll be okay."
"I said," Ann shouted, "I'll be alright. If you come back again with questions and I tell you to leave, please listen. Good night, detective."
They stared at one another bitterly. Offended by her patronizing attitude, Tim fired back in a whisper. "I'm not one of your students. Good night, Miss Sheldon." He marched out of the living room, leaving behind Ann who stormed back to the sofa. She hesitated from sitting. Instead she walked to the mantle and stared at Anita's picture. Ann crossed her arms tight against her chest and shuddered.
--
Tim hadn't been in the mood to drive, preferring the passenger seat. He felt safe there, especially when he was upset. An awkward silence wedged between him and Frank until Bayliss had finally broken it. "I don't understand. She doesn't appreciate if anyone is concerned about her? Isn't she afraid? Doesn't she understand she could be in danger?"
"She's afraid," said Frank, keeping his eyes on the road. "She can't admit it. She's still in denial. There's nothing you can do if someone refuses protection."
"There has to be something I can do, Frank."
"Let me ask you question…are you attracted to Ann?"
"What?" Tim chuckled sheepishly.
Frank eyed him and smiled. "Yeah, you're attracted to her."
"She's not my type. We would never get along."
"Why? Because she's African-American?"
"Oh, c'mon, Frank. This has nothing to do with her being African-American. We're different and--," He sighed, frustrated and confused. "Okay, you're right. She's attractive…extremely attractive. The problem is her sister was murdered; her twin sister she was very close to. From what Ann told us, she doesn't seem interested in getting involved with anyone. Her life was Anita. And after what happened with Emma Zoole, I don't know if wanna pursue another relationship."
"Tim, you don't think Ann is attracted to you? I've noticed the way she looks at you."
Tim shrugged his shoulders, doubting the attraction between them. "I don't know, Frank. What I do know is that I'm concerned she's in danger and I have to close this case. At first I'm thinking these women were involved with the killer but Marissa insists Samantha wasn't dating anyone. And the men she knew, they all have alibis. Sheila Monroe…she has a boyfriend, Robert Carpenter. But she could have been fooling around with someone else. We checked her ex-boyfriends, acquaintances…nothing. Anita, same thing. Now, what I've noticed is these women have something else in common besides the necklaces."
"What's that?"
"They all have similar personalities. They're not outgoing and they seem withdrawn around other people. Robert told us that Sheila had mood swings, like someone who has bipolar disorder but there were no meds in the home. He insisted she wasn't seeing a therapist. Her family doesn't know anything. Ann…from what the other teachers told us, she's outgoing with her students, a dedicated teacher but she's distant with people. I believe these women, because of their personalities were manipulated by the killer…but who? Gee's right. We're missing something. Damn, what is it?"
--
203 Homicide. Ann strolled tentatively inside the hectic squad room. Hands tucked deep inside the pockets of her black coat. It was yesterday, Thursday evening she spoke with the detectives and yet she said to herself…
"What am I doing here? No, I can't do this." Ann Sheldon stopped short. Ahead, she saw Tim sitting at his desk. The teacher breathed and continued onward. Suddenly Ann noticed stares from Lewis, Felton, Bolander, Munch and Kay, as if she had been a ghost haunting the precinct. Frank also stared, surprised to see her there. Uneasy, she didn't turn back. Kay, before heading to her desk had stopped in front in of her.
"Can I help you?"
"I need to speak to Detective Bayliss."
"He's over--,"
"I see him," she answered swiftly. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Kay watched the teacher and amazed. It was as if Anita walked in, Anita the way she would have looked before the murder.
Ann stopped at Tim's desk. She stared at him, seeing frustration and tension on his face while he busied himself with what looked like notes about the case. Getting his attention, she cleared her throat. Tim looked up. His hazel eyes widened in surprise and worry at her unexpected visit.
"Miss Sheldon? Are you alright?"
"I'm okay." Her eyes fell upon something on his desk, something that seemed to bring back fond memories as her lips curved into a little smile. "I see you have a Rubik's cube."
"Yes, I do." Tim picked it up.
"Are you able to match up the colors?"
"Sometimes."
"I did it once and could never do it again. Anita was the pro."
"Really?"
Ann nodded with a grin she quickly erased, as if it had been a sin to smile. "Listen, about yesterday…I know I can be harsh and I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Tim replied gently. "You're going through a tough time. I just wanted you to know that if you need anything, you can call me or my partner."
Ann stared shyly at his desk, and yet she boldly stated, "You mean I can call you." Her eyes darted back to see his stunned reaction.
"Uh," he stood from the chair. "Do you wanna talk? We can go somewhere more private."
"Okay."
--
They strode together onto the recreation pier and stood at the gate. Ann watched the crimson sunset leaving behind brilliant sherbet colors of orange, lavender and cherry.
"Anita and I would jog along the pier on the weekends. We'd take a break and watch the sunset."
"Miss Sheldon--,"
"Ann," she blurted sternly.
Bayliss smiled. "Ann, you can call me Tim."
She nodded with a stone face as if struggling to keep herself composed. Ann continued to stare straight ahead at the sunset. "I like watching the boats and—and sometimes I feel like I can't breathe, like I'm drowning and there's no lifeboat in sight to rescue me. Tim, do you ever feel like that? I imagine you do, so much death you see."
Tim leaned his forehead against the gate. He grimaced, unable to hide his frustration of solving cases, the pain of having to tell families and friends their loved ones won't be coming home.
"So much death you see."
"Yeah," Tim answered gravely. "I feel like that…a lot."
"Have you ever been hurt by someone you thought you loved?"
Tim faltered as if thinking whether he should answer that question. "I met someone not long ago. I thought she loved me but--," he shook his head and chuckled. "I don't know."
"I loved someone, when I was seventeen. We dated in school but then I found out he had other girlfriends. I was so naïve. And then I told myself, I'll never let that happen again."
Tim looked around at Ann, watching intently the faint sunlight reflected in her honey-colored eyes. She glanced at him towering above her. "What are we doing here?" she told him defensively. "What are we talking about? It was a stupid idea coming here."
"Ann--,"
"What was I thinking?" she shouted at him and walked away. "You're a white detective. Why would you be concerned about me? An African-American woman?"
"Because you're an African-American woman," Tim shouted back, "I shouldn't be concerned. I shouldn't--,"
"What?"
"I shouldn't say I'm attracted to you!"
Ann halted. She squeezed her eyes shut, stunned at what he had confessed, afraid of what was happening between them. She turned, walking back to the gate. "I know you're busy so if you don't have any plans later, you're welcome to stop by my place. We can talk more about…this."
"I don't have any plans so, yeah, I'll stop by and we can talk more about…this."
Ann gave him a quick smile and then Tim watched her as she headed back inside the precinct.
--
Tim stood outside Ann's door and before knocking again, the door opened. Ann wore another black caftan embroidered with red flowers. Thinking to himself…
"You're so beautiful."
Her perfume…mandarin orange…not too strong, just right…warm and inviting.
"I love the way you smell."
"Tim? You okay?"
"Huh? Yeah, I just—uh, you look pretty in the caftan your wearing."
Smiling briefly, she said, "Thank you. Come in."
Tim entered the apartment and once he was inside the living room, Bayliss slipped out of his trench coat and sat on the sofa. Jazz music played softy. Billie Holiday, her voice, dreamy and sensuous had resonated hypnotically in the atmosphere.
Ann walked up to him but she chose to stand. "How's it going with the case?"
"It's still a dead end but I'm working on it. Ann, I'm gonna find the killer."
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I asked about it. I'm sure you're under a lot of pressure as it is."
"It's okay."
"No!"
Startled by her reaction, he stared silently at Ann.
"I'm sorry," she said to him. "I've been stressed out lately at school and," Ann stopped, peeking at Anita's picture sitting on the mantle. She quickly looked away; her attention darted back to Tim. "Do you want something to drink?"
"Water's fine."
He watched Ann walk away and disappeared through shutter doors hiding the kitchen. Tim relaxed against the sofa, enjoying the music. Time had gone by, too much time. How long did it take for Ann to get something so simple as water? Suddenly there came a loud crash.
"Ann!" Tim sprang from where he sat and barged through the doors. Inside the kitchen, Ann screamed along with each glass she had thrown. Fragmented pieces shimmered on the floor. "Ann," Tim said carefully, extending his hands toward her. "It's alright."
Ignoring him, the teacher tossed another glass that struck the tiled wall. She then grasped another one, breaking it on the edge of the kitchen table. Ann pointed jagged edges of glass at Tim. Her eyes wide with seething rage; trails of tears marred her face.
"Ann," he repeated softly, hoping to calm her down.
She then pressed the glass onto her wrist.
Terrified, Bayliss eased toward her. "Ann, please, I know you're hurting but you'll be okay. You don't have to go through this alone. I'm here."
"Why do you wanna be my friend?" she shouted. "Why?"
"Because I care about you."
"You don't give a damn about me. Only Anita cared. She loved me and now she's gone. She's gone!"
"I care about you, too. And I know you're angry because she's gone but you're not alone. Ann, please--,"
Ann looked down at the glass. She then dropped it and a sobbing cry burst from her lungs. Tim rushed over to her and when circling his arms around Ann, she collapsed against him.
"It's okay," he told her soothingly. "You're gonna be alright."
She locked her arms around his waist, holding on tight. While Ann gasped and shivered, Tim lifted her chin. He gently wiped her tears. His fingertips inched down to her full lips, tracing the outline. Their lips were drawn closer until they kissed briefly. Breaking away, they looked at one another, then more brief kisses. Tim wanted to taste more of her and sensing she wanted the same, they kissed hard. This time, Ann broke away, both breathless.
"Tim, I—I can't."
"I'm falling in love with you."
Ann frantically shook her head. "You don't know what you're saying."
"I didn't expect this to happen again but it is and I—I can't hide what I feel. I tried, Ann. I tried to keep it a secret from you but I can't."
She shook her head again. "No! No!"
"Please tell me you feel the same way."
"I want you to go."
"Ann--,"
"Go. Get out!"
"How can I leave after you tried to kill yourself?"
"I'll be okay."
Flustered, Tim brushed back strands of his hair. "Will you promise me something?"
"What?"
"Call me if you're not feeling okay."
She nodded, acknowledging her promise and then Tim had gone.
--
Midnight. Tim lay awake in his bed; hands tucked behind his neck. Rain plummeted heavily against the window. Bayliss stared at the ceiling, thinking about Ann…he couldn't sleep.
Ann curled herself against the brass headboard of her bed. She shivered, clutching a pillow in her hands. After a long winter, thunder roared, signaling an early spring. She tried to sleep but it would not come. Tim, he was an obsession, an obsession that frightened Ann ever since she met him. She shut her eyes, shaking, wanting him. At that moment, her eyes snapped open. Ann reached for the phone and dialed his number. It hadn't taken him long to answer.
"Tim?" she said in a shaky voice. "I know it's late but…could you come over, please?"
--
Tim rushed out of his car into the torrential rain. Clambering the steps wearing only a hooded sweater and gray sweat pants, he was quickly buzzed in. Ann's apartment door had opened again. She stood there with a satin burgundy robe wrapped around her. Tim hadn't moved from where he stood, staring at her, his hair despite wearing the hood was drenched along with his clothes.
"Come in. I'll get a towel."
Tim waited on the sofa. She came back with a towel, sitting beside him, drying his face and hair.
"Tim," she whispered. "What are you doing to me?"
His fingers caressed her cheek. "I just wanna love you. Please, tell me if you feel the same."
Ann shivered and this time she answered his question with a soft, "Yes." The teacher grabbed him, holding him tight against her. "But I can't breathe, remember that feeling I told you about?" She brushed her lips along his ear. "I'm afraid. I feel like I'm sinking, I'm dying. Help me, Tim."
"I'm here," he whispered back.
Ann straddled him. He untied her robe, seeing she was naked. They kissed hard. The only sounds heard were their moans…and the rain.
2 A.M.
The bedroom. Ann gasped and screamed from an immense pleasure she never thought she could feel again. Her hands pinned to the bed as Tim made love to her from behind.
10 A.M.
Ann's eyes fluttered open. She looked up into Tim's smiling face.
"Good morning," he said cheerily.
She smiled back. "Good morning."
They snuggled against each other. Ann played with strands of his brown hair that fell onto his forehead. "What do you want for breakfast? Pancakes, eggs and sausages?"
"That sounds de-licious."
They kissed passionately and as Ann sat up, putting on her robe, the bell rang.
"I know who that is," she said. "I'll be right back."
Tim relaxed in bed, smiling dreamily about the incredible night he had with Ann. He was in love, though he thought the same thing had happened with Emma. Somehow, this had been different, like what he heard people say when they met someone and somehow they knew that person was the one. Bayliss waited and waited, and waited. Ann didn't come back, no sound of any movement inside the apartment. Alarmed, he quickly slipped into his sweat pants and sweater. Tim's holster lay on the chair. Rushing over to it, he eased his gun out from the holster. Quietly and carefully, his bare feet stepped out into the living room. He frantically searched around. The gun held firmly in his hands. Bayliss saw that the apartment door was ajar. Cautious, he reached for the knob, flung the door open and aimed his gun out into the hall flooded with daylight. Ahead, he noticed the front door was also open. Tim ran toward it and out into the street.
Frantic again, he looked left and right. No sign of the teacher anywhere.
"Ann!" he shouted. "Ann!"
TBC