I finished the rest of the chapter and set Confessions of a Serial Killer down on the coffee table. A mixture of emptiness and dread was turning my stomach into a mess of tangled knots. I got up and walked over to the glass doors that led to the balcony, slid them open and stepped outside.

The chilled air sent a cutting shiver down my spine. I walked towards the edge as blowing snow stung my face. It felt like an out of body experience. I saw everything that was happening, but it felt like I was being controlled by some invisible force.

My shaking hands gripped the ice-cold metal railing so tightly that my knuckles started turning white. Then with wide eyes and shallow breaths, I watched the falling snow transform into bits of smouldering black ash. I peered over the edge, the height was dizzying; I couldn't see the ground. Thirty-four floors...

"Dominic," someone said. It sounded like a woman's voice.

My heart was pounding when I released my grip on the railing. I whipped my head around, looking for the source of the voice. But I was alone on the balcony as large, feathery snowflakes fell from a clouded, grey sky. Trembling, I backed away from the edge; stumbled back inside, pulled the sliding door closed and turned the lock.

I shook my head, trying to figure out what had just happened. But my mind was blank. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the picture of Laura and me sitting on top of the bookshelf. I wandered over and picked it up with my cold hands. It's the day I proposed to her. Seeing her smile seems to always brighten my day. I wish you were here.

I kissed the picture of my beautiful wife, placed it back on the bookshelf and headed to the bathroom. I turned on the faucet, washed my face and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.

I need a walk or something. I just can't be here right now. I marched out of the bathroom, grabbed my coat and made my way out the front door.

After stepping outside the lobby, I looked up and tried to find the top of the building. A shudder ran through my body; I couldn't see it. I put my hood up and started walking.

I have no idea where I'm going.

***

I walked for what felt like hours, but when I checked my phone just over thirty minutes had gone by. I decided to turn around and head home, still trying to process what almost happened earlier. My mind felt flooded, I wasn't thinking straight. But I kept trudging through the snow-covered sidewalk.

By the time I reached the lobby, I had made the decision to call it in early. Sleeping usually did me a world of good. I just need to forget the waking world for a moment.

I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for my floor. As the doors were about to close, someone yelled, "Wait!"

I shoved my hand in between the closing doors, causing them to open. A woman, who looked to be in her late twenties, ran into the elevator. Her brown hair was damp from the snow.

"Thank you," she said, trying to catch her breath.

"You're welcome," I forced a smile, "What floor?"

"Twenty-three, please," she replied.

I did as she asked and returned to my thoughts. I was caught off guard when she said, "I'm Nicole," and offered me her hand. "I've seen you around, but I don't think we've met. You take the train too, right?"

I hastily removed my hand from the pocket of my coat and shook hers. "No, I don't think we have," I replied, "and yes, I take the train to work, and most other places—Dominic."

"That's a cool name," she smiled, letting go of my hand, "I think it suits you."

"Thank you," I muttered.

"You're welcome," she beamed.

Nicole glanced over to the buttons on the panel and said, "The thirty-fourth floor—that must be nice. I bet the view is stunning from up there."

Most days, I would agree with her, but not tonight. I don't want to think about the fact that I live on the top floor.

"It's nice," I replied in a calm tone, "and on a clear day, you can see the mountains."

"That sounds amazing," she smiled, "maybe someday when I figure my shit out, pardon my language—

I chuckled, "it's okay."

"Sorry, I work in customer service, and I try to watch my language, so I don't accidentally say what's actually on my mind."

I smiled. "I understand."

"Anyways," Nicole continued, "Yeah, my boyfriend—man-friend? I don't know what to call him anymore—he's turning thirty-two in a week—you have the same build as him. Anyways, he's ex-military and still trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life, and mine by extension."

Nicole sighed, "I keep hoping he'll, you know, take things to the next level—I'm sorry, you don't want to hear about my problems. You probably have shit you're dealing with and don't wanna listen to me ramble on about my life."

I flashed a small smile. "It's okay, I don't mind."

"Thanks," she said.

Just then, the elevator stopped. "Twenty-Third Floor," it said before the doors opened.

"Well, this is me," Nicole said. "It was nice meeting you, Dominic."

"My pleasure," I replied, "I hope you have a good evening."

"Thanks, you too."

Talking to Nicole was a nice reprieve from my dismal evening. And I found myself wishing I had her problems as the elevator continued ascending.

***

After hanging up my coat, I decided to see if there was anything good on TV before calling it a night. I was about to sit down when I saw Confessions of a Serial Killer on the coffee table. The novel still intrigued me, but there was now something ominous about it.

Part of me wanted to pick it up and keep reading, but I thought it best to leave the book alone for the night. I was about to reach for the remote when there was a knock on my door. I tapped on my phone to check the time. It was just after nine, and I wasn't expecting any visitors.

The knocking continued, so I got up and walked over to the door. I looked through the peephole and saw two police officers standing in the hallway. I opened the door and said, "Good evening, officers. How can I help you?"

"Mr Ashcroft?" asked the officer with black hair.

"Yes," I nodded.

"Good night, sir. My name is Officer Singh, and this is Officer Rhodes. We'd like to ask you a few questions about where you were last Thursday night. Is it alright if we come in?"

"Yes, of course," I replied, stepping aside.

I explained everything I did last Thursday night while sitting on one of the stools next to the island in the kitchen. The officers just listened and took notes, their eyes wandering around occasionally.

"Did you hear anything out of the ordinary coming from downstairs that night?" Officer Singh asked.

"Out of the ordinary?" I repeated, "No, not really. I sometimes hear loud music coming from downstairs, but I don't remember hearing anything last Thursday." I wrinkled my brow, "Why do you ask?"

"Mr Ashcroft," Officer Rhodes cleared his throat, "the victim who was found in the river on Friday lived in the unit below this one. His name was Caleb Slater."