Her eyes never stopped moving. He watched them roam the room, looking at the rows of filing cabinets and the papers piled on every horizontal surface. The office was dark the way he liked it. The only illumination was a small green-shaded lamp on his desk. He waited until her eyes rested on him.
“Do you know him?” she repeated.
“He is your husband?” he countered, lighting a cigarette as he contemplated her.
Elsa looked at the paper clenched in her hand.
“That doesn’t matter. They said you were good at this. The best.”
“I am.” He leaned back and inhaled turning the end of his cigarette cherry red. “Can I help you…”
“Catch him?” Elsa interrupted and shifted in her chair. Perched on the edge, she leaned forward, gripping the desk’s curved contours, her dark eyes bore into his soul. He wasn’t sure what she hoped to find. Seconds passed like hours. He let the time tick away until she finally spoke. Her voice was soft, but her words cut him like a rapier.
“Yes, and when you catch him, you will kill him.” She swallowed, breathing rapidly as she thrust the crumpled paper across the desk towards him. She unfurled her fist, releasing the death sentence.
He could feel her watching as he carefully opened the paper, watched his face turn ashen as he read it, watched him process the words.
He lifted his head, his eyes locking with Elsa’s.
“I will kill him for you,” he said.
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer