Unsuspecting Culprit

Chapter Nine

By ten, she's ready to turn in. The eyes seem to doze no matter how intriguing your reading material is. Fatigue comes first in hand through everything for Rayleigh. A quick shower and she's in bed, lulling herself to sleep with the sound of the wind whirling close to her windowsill.

~

The sun begins to rise just over the horizon as Rayleigh slams her hand down on the automated alarm on her bedside table. The constant beeping seizes. Her body wakes itself slowly and in a continuing haze, she finds clothes most appropriate for a Monday and heads for the kitchen. Her closet is rather large- and organized. OCD competes with her every morning. If a sock, a shirt, a shoe, anything, is out of place, her need to fix it is immediate. Unorderly things poke at her nonstop. She makes a quick cup of tea and walks to grab her coat and shoes.

As she steps out her front door, a cold breeze wafts in. Her loose, blue scarf lies hanging on the hook by the door. She quickly reaches back in to retrieve it and steps outside her front door, lightly shutting it after. She hears the click and sets off towards her car. The cold air fights its way into the wool of her coat, almost searching for its own heat source. Rayleigh wraps the scarf around her neck and quickly stuffs the ends into her wool coat to secure it from the cold air lurking above the surface.

Her car keys jingle from her hand as she walks. The keys are still warm from the heat of her home. Ray's hands grip them as she eases the key in, ducks her and steps into the car, shivering from the bite of the weather. The sudden drop in temperature is surprising, hopefully signifying a white winter, Rayleigh thinks to herself.

Her large bag full of articles, paperwork and her laptop is thrown to the back seat followed by a slight thud. The cushion of the seat breaks the fall. Clicking her seatbelt into place and setting the car in drive, she's one step closer to getting to the office.

As she pulls out of her sloped driveway, she feels a pair of eyes bear down on her with utter curiosity and interest. After her car faces the direction of her intended path of travel, she glances to the left. Once again, Levi stands in his window. His prying eyes make her feel somewhat ornery. Just the sight of him angers her. Will he ever stop staring? Now that he has a collected amount of information, he has some degree of reason to stare. Isn't it none of his business though?

In an attempt to mask her annoyance, she lightly waves and maintains eye contact. He lingers a second longer before turning away, looking down at his phone and raising it to his ear with a look of something she can't recognize from the distance she's placed at. Her view of him is out of reach as he walks away from the window, shutting the blinds along with her wandering mind. Rayleigh turns back to the road and continues like she intended to.

She drives with the vague notion that he knows something she doesn't. And she doesn't want to. Upon reaching the intersection, she turns her turn signal on to go right. Abiding by traffic laws, Rayleigh begins to turn her wheel on a stop light. Because she's in the lane to turn, she can turn to go in the direction of her work. Just as she's halfway through the intersection, a car comes streaking past her, hardly missing her tailgate. The man honks as he passes, his middle finger up in a flash directed right at her. Ray hits her breaks instinctively as the car jolts to a sudden stop. She's thrown towards the windshield within seconds. She rolls down her window a bit.

"Asshole!" she screams out her window. People nowadays have no regard for other roadway users, Rayleigh thinks to herself. After checking that the way is clear, again, she gets in the right lane as quickly as she can and adjusts her speed.

~

Her tires screech along the cold, wet pavement as she parks at the back of the building. She grabs her bag from the backseat before stepping out into the cold once again. Locking her car doors, she glances up to find a well-known coworker of hers heading for the door in lengthy strides.