reached the entrance to the station panting. My hungry friend didn’t follow, thank goodness, but when I peered back around the corner, I swore I saw him pull out his left-at-work cell phone and make a call.
What had just happened?
CHAPTER 5
MY OWN CELL PHONE HAD RUN SO LOW ON power that I didn’t risk making a call unless it was an emergency. I kept the little device tight in my sweaty hand as I waited for the next Metro train. There were two men on the platform with me. One was a large fellow wearing a hat, a cell phone tight to his ear.
The other man was elderly, white-haired, with bushy eyebrows. He leaned on a four-foot aluminum cane and stared down the tunnel as though awaiting the train’s arrival. Except he was staring in the wrong direction.
Not that it mattered. The train came soon enough and I readied myself to get on, wondering if the elderly man needed assistance. Just as the doors opened, however, the man in the hat was behind us, nudging the old fellow in. I couldn’t tell for certain whether the two knew each other or whether the younger man was just impatient. Either way, you didn’t push people with canes. It just wasn’t right.
Once inside the car, I made sure to study each and every commuter. Two young women chattered about an upcomingwedding. Neither gave me a passing glance. They were safe.
The hat-wearing younger man sat behind the two girls, while the older man took a seat by the door. Apparently they didn’t know each other after all. Across the aisle from him, a younger man sat with his legs wide apart, bouncing on the balls of his feet as though ready to leap into action. When I walked past him, he gave me a curious look, but maybe that was because he’d felt the weight of my stare.
Paranoia and I made our way to the middle of the car, choosing one of the many empty aisle seats. My senses were so heightened by my recent encounter that I sat ramrod straight, trying to quiet the thrumming of my heart. Again I wondered what had just happened outside. “Come on,” I whispered, urging the train to depart. I needed to get home. Today’s gruesome discovery was weighing heavily on my mind and was undoubtedly the source of my intense suspicion.
Deep breath
, I told myself,
it’s safe now. It’s okay to relax.
The man with the hat got up just as the Metro doors closed. I watched as he lumbered over. He wore a business suit under an open, camel-colored trench coat, and his hat was pulled low over his eyes. All I could see of his face was the deep cleft of his chin, until he pushed back the brim of his hat, made eye contact, and took the aisle seat across from me. “Cold draft over there,” he said.
There were plenty of other choices in the nearly empty car. Why pick one so close to mine?
Annoyed, I gripped my phone tighter, snugged my purse under my arm, and pretended to brush debris off the seat next to me. With a shake of my head and a disappointed huff, I stood up and walked farther back in the car, proud of my dramatic talents. Three rows behind the guy with the hat, I had a wide, unobstructed view of all occupants. I liked it much better this way.
To my relief, the guy stayed in his seat. He pulled a Metro map from his pocket and spread it open across his lap, studying it for a few minutes before jamming a fingernear the bottom to hold his place while he looked around. Apparently pleased by whatever he saw, he folded the map up again and slid it back into his pocket. Probably an out-
of-towner on a business trip.
The two women and the antsy young man got off at Foggy Bottom, leaving me with the elderly gent with the cane and Map Man for company. The older fellow’s head drooped lower and lower and I thought I heard him snore. The man with the map kept his hands folded as he read the ads on either side of the car. Neither of those two seemed particularly interested in me, so I tucked my phone back into my purse and stared out the window, able to relax a
What had just happened?
CHAPTER 5
MY OWN CELL PHONE HAD RUN SO LOW ON power that I didn’t risk making a call unless it was an emergency. I kept the little device tight in my sweaty hand as I waited for the next Metro train. There were two men on the platform with me. One was a large fellow wearing a hat, a cell phone tight to his ear.
The other man was elderly, white-haired, with bushy eyebrows. He leaned on a four-foot aluminum cane and stared down the tunnel as though awaiting the train’s arrival. Except he was staring in the wrong direction.
Not that it mattered. The train came soon enough and I readied myself to get on, wondering if the elderly man needed assistance. Just as the doors opened, however, the man in the hat was behind us, nudging the old fellow in. I couldn’t tell for certain whether the two knew each other or whether the younger man was just impatient. Either way, you didn’t push people with canes. It just wasn’t right.
Once inside the car, I made sure to study each and every commuter. Two young women chattered about an upcomingwedding. Neither gave me a passing glance. They were safe.
The hat-wearing younger man sat behind the two girls, while the older man took a seat by the door. Apparently they didn’t know each other after all. Across the aisle from him, a younger man sat with his legs wide apart, bouncing on the balls of his feet as though ready to leap into action. When I walked past him, he gave me a curious look, but maybe that was because he’d felt the weight of my stare.
Paranoia and I made our way to the middle of the car, choosing one of the many empty aisle seats. My senses were so heightened by my recent encounter that I sat ramrod straight, trying to quiet the thrumming of my heart. Again I wondered what had just happened outside. “Come on,” I whispered, urging the train to depart. I needed to get home. Today’s gruesome discovery was weighing heavily on my mind and was undoubtedly the source of my intense suspicion.
Deep breath
, I told myself,
it’s safe now. It’s okay to relax.
The man with the hat got up just as the Metro doors closed. I watched as he lumbered over. He wore a business suit under an open, camel-colored trench coat, and his hat was pulled low over his eyes. All I could see of his face was the deep cleft of his chin, until he pushed back the brim of his hat, made eye contact, and took the aisle seat across from me. “Cold draft over there,” he said.
There were plenty of other choices in the nearly empty car. Why pick one so close to mine?
Annoyed, I gripped my phone tighter, snugged my purse under my arm, and pretended to brush debris off the seat next to me. With a shake of my head and a disappointed huff, I stood up and walked farther back in the car, proud of my dramatic talents. Three rows behind the guy with the hat, I had a wide, unobstructed view of all occupants. I liked it much better this way.
To my relief, the guy stayed in his seat. He pulled a Metro map from his pocket and spread it open across his lap, studying it for a few minutes before jamming a fingernear the bottom to hold his place while he looked around. Apparently pleased by whatever he saw, he folded the map up again and slid it back into his pocket. Probably an out-
of-towner on a business trip.
The two women and the antsy young man got off at Foggy Bottom, leaving me with the elderly gent with the cane and Map Man for company. The older fellow’s head drooped lower and lower and I thought I heard him snore. The man with the map kept his hands folded as he read the ads on either side of the car. Neither of those two seemed particularly interested in me, so I tucked my phone back into my purse and stared out the window, able to relax a
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