“Who the hell is in here?” he called out angrily.
Joe, it’s all right. Just learn to listen.
There was a scurrying sound from the kitchen. He forced himself to walk toward it, though every instinct in him was screaming to get away. “Who the hell are you? Show yourself now,” he demanded.
He heard the sound again.
Great. What the hell was he going to find? A ghostly figure, draped in white, floating above the ground?
He felt a brush of air again. It wasn’t a cold breath but something warm, almost alive. Almost…tender. Joe, go easy. Please, Joe.
He kept himself under tight control and strode into the kitchen. While the rest of the house was furnished according to the period, the kitchen featured every modern convenience. He heard the scurrying sound again, and his hand tightened on the butt of his gun.
No, Joe…it’s all right, the voice said.
But the voice and the scurrying weren’t coming from the same place.
Something started to move. A shadow rising.
Joe, it’s just a kid.
Then the shadow itself cried out, it’s voice clearly young. “Don’t hurt me!”
CHAPTER 10
“Show yourself!” Joe demanded.
The shadow stood up by the refrigerator, and in the red security light he saw that it was a teenaged girl. She had tousled blond hair and a face that was pinched with hunger.
“Don’t shoot me! Please don’t shoot me.”
He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He’d never been so relieved in his life. She was real. She was flesh and blood.
Except that…
She wasn’t the one who’d been whispering to him.
“Who are you, and what are you doing in here?” he asked her.
He didn’t expect the response he got. The girl burst into tears and came running toward him, then threw herself against him. “I’m so scared!” she told him.
“Hey, hey, it’s all right,” he said awkwardly. He drew away from her and realized that she must be a runaway.
“What’s your name?”
“Debbie,” she said.
“Debbie what?” he pursued.
“Smith,” she said.
He almost laughed out loud. She was making it up.
“All right, Debbie…Smith, why are you so scared? And what are you doing in this house?” he asked gently.
“I…slipped in before they locked up.”
“And you left the door open,” he told her.
She looked at him, shaking her head. “No, I didn’t,” she said firmly.
“All right, hang on,” he said, and pulled out his phone, thinking he should call the police. But he didn’t. He hesitated, and then he called Genevieve, instead.
“Joe?” She sounded relieved to hear from him, but also uneasy. He wondered why, but there wasn’t time now to ask her. “Gen, I, uh, I think I have need of your prowess as a social worker,” he told her.
“Oh?” she said, clearly curious. “Joe, where are you?”
“Hastings House,” he admitted.
“Hastings House?” She sounded worried.
“The door was open,” he explained, leaving out the how of it. “And I found a young…lady named Debbie Smith hiding inside, and now I’m not sure what to do with her.”
“How old is she?” Genevieve asked.
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll come down there right away.”
“No!” He didn’t want her going out alone, especially at night. In fact, he didn’t want her going out alone at all, he realized, an opinion she would not appreciate.
“Fine. Come by and pick me up, then. You can bring her with you. I’ll stand right by the doorman until you get here.”
“Okay,” he said. “Ten minutes.” Then he hung up and looked at the girl, who looked eerie in the strange red light.
“You…you won’t call the police on me, will you?” she begged.
“Not yet. But let’s get out of here and go see a friend of mine. I’ll have to call someone to come lock this place up for the night,” he told her.
He didn’t close the door as they left, but it closed behind him, and he heard a lock slide into place.
“Shit!” the girl said, jumping.
“It must lock automatically,” Joe said, glad not to have to call someone and try to explain what the hell he had been doing there. He led her down the front walk, and when they stepped out onto the sidewalk, the gate closed behind them, as well.
“You’re not going to leave me here, are you?” Debbie asked, panic in her tone.
“No, I told you, we’re going to see a friend of mine. She’ll know what to do,” Joe said.
The traffic was bad once they picked up his car, and Joe chafed at the thought of Genevieve standing out on the street, even with her doorman. He knew he was being paranoid, but he couldn’t escape his dreams.
Nor the fear that his own sense of insanity seemed to be growing worse.
The girl at his side was silent. He realized that he wasn’t helping matters, but he wasn’t sure what to say. “So, Debbie…where are you from?” he asked at last.