Story-A-Day #108: B and E

B AND E

He had requested the room on purpose, practically made it seem like an Aspergers thing.

“It has to be the third room in, ground floor, facing away from the road,” he had explained to the receptionist, and she had willingly obliged.

She had no way of knowing that he had been scouting the place for the better part of the week and that the real reason he had selected that room was not because of some somatic nonsense, but actually because of the room above. More to the point, it was because of the person in the room above.

She had been holed up in there for three days and was determined to wait her out. Having the room below was an additional way to keep track of her: a knock on the door, a toilet flush, a long shower. He had her routine down and was just waiting for the opening he knew would come. A click and a slam from above and he would be out the patio door and up and over the balcony above. He knew she didn’t lock the door, careless though that was, because he had watched her from the forest the day before: open the door a crack, sneak a cigarette, then slide it shut and pull the blinds.

It was almost too easy. She would eventually step out for a walk, or a swim in the hotel pool (he had watched her do that as well) and he would make his move. He was sure that the briefcase would be in there. Where else could it be? She had come straight here from the bank and he had been right on her tail the whole way.

The briefcase would be in there and he would get it back and return it to its rightful owner within the week.

It was pretty ridiculous that even in this day and age of information, there were still those people who thought that they could get away with their crimes and disappear into the unknown. There was no disappearing anymore. Not anywhere, not by anyone. He would prove this to her when she returned to her room and discovered that she had left everything to end up with nothing.

It would be at least a day until he could make his move.

He called down to the front desk and ordered some room service, a bit of fried breakfast to tide him over. There was something soothing about a bit of B and E to get the day going.

He walked over to the patio door on a whim, figuring he might take a quick moment to let some fresh air into his room. He popped the latch and slid the heavy glass door open.

There was a fresh pair of footprints in the snow bank beyond his small patio; small, almost feminine footprints. They had not been there the day before. He dashed back in through his room and down the corridor to the side door. He smashed through it and out into the parking lot.

Her car was gone.