Hello Darkness

Chapter Sixteen

Fresh ground coffee attacks my nostrils as I open the door to Annalise's Coffee Shop—the tiny bell tinkling overhead. It's a rustic little place. Old wood lines the counter and make the benches. A chalkboard hangs high behind the bar, sketching out the signature drinks.

By some blessed miracle, it is an average day. I confirmed my meeting with Eve before leaving work. Talum, to my surprise, keeps his promise of a more casual demeanor and actually purchases a coffee to sip on while we work. Plain black—not surprised.

As soon as Eve gets here anyways.

I check my phone for the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes. My knee bouncing beneath the table as I trace the green, 100% recycled material label on my coffee cup with my thumb. "Do you think everything's okay?"

"I'm sure she's just running a little late. Not everyone has a professional planner at their disposal." A roguish smile brushes across his face.

"Or..." I smirk, "she saw you and quickly ran away."

"Is that the effect I have on people?" He places his thumb and forefinger beneath his chin as if deep in thought. "Maybe that's why we haven't heard from this mysterious person. It's making my job rather boring. Sounded pretty exciting before I came around."

I like this Talum. Since my outburst he's warmed, but that doesn't stop my mind from opening the file with the photo. I push the thought away and roll my eyes. "I'll take having you around any day verses that kind of excitement."

He takes a sip of his drink. "I'll remember that the next time you try to break my routine."

"You know how I picture your house..."

He cocks his head, clearly questioning my change in subject.

"Everything has labels. Literally everything. And it's organized numerically or alphabetically. Your cat probably has a label stuck to its fur."

"I have a cat?" he laughs.

That sound warms my cheeks, and I blush even deeper when I acknowledge it. "Well, you definitely don't have a dog."

His eyebrows furrow. "Why wouldn't I have a dog?"

I gesture with open hands as if it's completely obvious. "Because dogs are fun—"

"Now, you're not implying that I'm no fun, are you?" His eyes light and a smile plays on his lips.

"I would never." I place my open hand on my chest and feign innocence. "But please, do tell me, what you do for fun?"

He runs his tongue across the front of his teeth before answering. "I—" He worries his lip while one hand rubs the back of his neck. My lips tug at the softness of his face—it's sweet. "I like to paint."

I look up from beneath my brow. "So, adventurous," I croon with an added level of sarcasm. I take a sip of my coffee. "And the perfect cat owner's hobby."

"It is not," he counters. "Its fur would get stuck in the paint."

I nearly spit my coffee and look around to make sure no one saw. I didn't realize how loud our laughter had become, or how much each of us leans over the table. He pulls back first as if he realized it too.

Just as our laughter dies, my name sprouts from a booth diagonal from us. Their voices are hushed, but I know too well what they're talking about. "She's that girl," one woman says. "The one we heard about on the radio."

"No..."

"They said she did it again."

Gasps came from the other woman, and I feel their eyes linger in my direction.