Maggie hurried down a somewhat dim corridor, carrying a half-worn cloth bag toward a room at the end. She turned around, pulled a key from the pocket of her thick skirt, inserted it into the lock, opened the door, entered the room, and shut the door behind her.
There was no hesitation in that whole sequence. She moved as skillfully as if she were in her own home, but this was not her apartment.
The moment she closed the door, Maggie let out a breath. As if remembering something, she paused, then gathered her courage and walked farther into the apartment.
She saw a photograph on the coffee table in the living room. Maggie walked over and picked up the frame. It showed her and Selene smiling.
It was their only photo together. She had come this time to retrieve it. Selene had left too hurriedly and packed too carelessly. Only after reaching the West Coast had she realized the photo was still in her old room. She called Maggie, and Maggie immediately came over.
Maggie carefully wiped the photograph clean and placed it in her cloth bag. Just as she turned toward the door, she suddenly heard movement from the bedroom.
Maggie immediately became alert. Then she heard the bedroom door open, and a figure walked out.
Bruce closed the bedroom door. The instant he turned around, he saw a dark gun barrel pointed at him.
The woman opposite him wore a somewhat worn sweater and a wool suspender skirt, both poorly maintained and already pilling. The cloth bag in her hand had been washed yellowish.
Bruce immediately knew who she was. He said, "You're Selene's friend Maggie, right? I've heard her mention you."
Maggie narrowed her eyes, aiming the pistol at Bruce's head. "Who are you? Why are