The Dead Room

Robert laughed. “Was I the one who called you that?”

 

 

“Maybe. I don’t remember. But mule will do just fine.”

 

He sighed. “More hopeless causes.”

 

“Aren’t they the best kind?” she teased.

 

Robert rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

 

Leslie lifted her beer. “To us—and a solution to all our mysteries.”

 

Joe felt a moment’s unease. He didn’t know why. Maybe because Leslie seemed so fearless.

 

“To us—and a solution to all our mysteries,” Robert repeated. There was no skepticism in his voice, but there was no assurance, either.

 

“To us,” Joe added simply.

 

Soon after, they left. Joe had left his car on the street near Hastings House. Robert offered them a lift, but it was only a few blocks back and the night was pleasant, so they opted to walk.

 

They walked in companionable silence for several minutes. Then she turned to him with a smile, her eyes bright. “I have to know, just like you.”

 

“We may never discover anything. Maybe it really was an accident.”

 

“I just don’t believe it,” she said. “And you don’t, either.”

 

“Like Robert said, we both loved Matt,” he reminded her.

 

“I know, but…”

 

Her words hung in the air. He was startled when, a moment later, she slipped her arm through his. Startled, and pleased, despite himself. She was counting on him as a friend, he thought.

 

Screw it, Matt. I can’t help it. Damn, you were a lucky man.

 

He vowed to be the friend she needed without turning into a stinking lech. She had enough of those around her. She was strong. She could handle herself. But he still felt a sudden urge to smash Hank Smith’s face.

 

Yeah, what about your own?

 

No way out of it. She was sheer seduction. Just by walking, talking…being.

 

“There’s the house,” he said, his voice husky as they turned a corner and Hastings House came into view.

 

“The house,” she repeated softly, and she seemed distant for a minute.

 

When they reached the door, he knew that he didn’t dare go in.

 

She didn’t ask him.

 

In fact, it seemed that she changed a little, once they were there.

 

“That was a great dinner. Thank you.”

 

“Sure. Nothing like discussing serial killers over a meal.”

 

She smiled sadly at that. “They’re out there.”

 

“And it seems that there’s one working this area. You be careful. Really careful.”

 

“It’s not like I actually go anywhere,” she told him. “To work…and tonight I was out with you and Robert. I think I’m safe enough…. Well, good night, and thank you again.”

 

“’Night.”

 

“When do you want to take a walk on the wild side?” she asked abruptly, surprising him.

 

“Whenever you’re ready.”

 

“Tomorrow night?”

 

“If your day isn’t too exhausting,” he told her.

 

“It won’t be. Digging is fun, and luckily, the guys like to do the talking.”

 

She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.

 

“Good night. Set that alarm.”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

She went in. He listened, and could just hear her keying the alarm. Satisfied, he started down the walk, head bowed in thought as he turned onto the sidewalk and headed toward his car.

 

He heard the sudden revving of a motor.

 

He looked up just as a dark sedan shot past him on the quiet night street. He was in time to catch two numbers at the end of the license plate.

 

Six-three.

 

He looked back.

 

Where the hell had the car come from? The prostitutes’ favorite corner wasn’t far, only about four blocks down, one over.

 

He swore and raced toward his own car.

 

But he was too late, and he knew it. By the time he reached the corner of Broadway, there was nothing in sight but a Hummer and three taxis.

 

He stopped, irrationally tempted to go back to check on Leslie. In the rearview mirror, Hastings House seemed to look back at him like a living thing. Lights in the upstairs windows could have been eyes. The fanlight above the door could have been a mouth.

 

Upstairs, a light went out.

 

The alarm was on, he told himself. State-of-the-art. And the house wasn’t far from One Police Plaza. She was safe. And he had to face it; she hadn’t wanted to let him in.

 

Still, he drove back. He knew he should have been totally focused on finding Genevieve O’Brien, but he also knew he was doing all the right things, following the right leads.

 

Was the girl already dead?

 

There was no way to know. Not until he discovered the truth of where she had gone, and why.

 

Alone in the night, he swore out loud, drove around the block and parked again.

 

In front of Hastings House.

 

Where he spent the night, dozing in his car.

 

 

 

 

 

8

 

 

 

 

Matt didn’t come to her that night.

 

Leslie lay awake for a long time, waiting, yearning for him to appear in the flesh.

 

Heather Graham's books