A team of crime-scene investigators came in to examine the room, although everyone thought that it was a losing proposition. The would-be killer had been wearing scrubs, including latex gloves, so fingerprints were unlikely.
Around ten, Sam woke up, none the worse for an ordeal he’d been totally unaware of, but he could add nothing to what the police had already found out, since he’d slept through the IV change. After he heard the full story, he was simply grateful to be alive.
Genevieve was disturbed that her mother hadn’t told her about her plans to go out with the Ravens, and she felt a keen sense of unease as she headed down to the garage to get her car. The garage wasn’t ablaze with light, but it wasn’t dark, either, though there were shadows. Still, it could only be accessed—whether from the street or from the building itself—with a resident’s keycard.
Even so, the door had barely closed behind her before she felt a strange sensation sweep over her. It wasn’t exactly fear. Not at first. It was more the sense that someone else was out there.
Then she felt the chill.
It was as if the shadows themselves were moving, as if darkness itself was snaking around her.
Touching her.
She started walking more quickly, looking around. She couldn’t see anyone.
She almost raced back to the door to the building, actually pictured herself fumbling with the key, desperate to get inside as quickly as she could.
At that point her car was closer, so she started to run for it. And even though she had just seen that there was no one around, she felt that someone was there. Someone who was trying to stop her.
She reached her car, but her fingers were trembling, and she had trouble opening the door.
Darkness, like a living thing, seemed to be rising behind her. She could almost feel the whisper of its breath.
She got the door open at last and jumped inside, then slammed and locked the door behind her. She swallowed hard as paranoia seized her again, and turned around. She actually expected to see someone sitting in the backseat, someone who’d hidden there, waiting, and who was now ready to pounce….
But no one was there. Of course.
Then…
She could have sworn she heard a whisper.
Help me!
She swallowed a scream and swung her head around, from side to side, in panic. She was ready to abandon the car and even opened the door.
Then she saw someone walking through the garage and plainly heard a cheerful whistle. Her blood seemed to freeze in her veins.
“Evening, Miss O’Brien.”
She sagged against the back of the seat and stared blankly at Tim Rindle, one of the night watchmen. Tim was a handsome twenty-something, clean cut, always cheerful. He had just gotten out of the service and was working nights to put himself through college.
“Are you all right?” he asked, as he got closer and saw her face, which she knew must have been as pale as a ghost.
She swallowed hard. Straightened. Felt like a complete fool.
“I’m fine, Tim.”
“Are you sure? Do you need me to help you up to your apartment or anything?” he asked anxiously.
Fear was slipping away like a cast-off shawl. There was so obviously no one but the two of them in the garage.
She almost laughed aloud at herself. But then Tim’s smile faded. “Miss O’Brien, you’ve got to be careful out there, okay?”
“Of course. I’m always careful.”
“There’s nothing on the news except about that poor girl who was murdered.”
“I’ll be careful, Tim.”
He was still looking at her, worried and frowning. “I wish I was off duty—I’d go with you to make sure you get wherever you’re going.”
“I’m just going to O’Malley’s. I know everyone there, and they all know me. My mother is waiting for me there,” she fibbed, “and a bunch of other friends.”
She gave him a wave and started the engine. Then she paused and rolled down the window. “Tim?”
“Yes?”
“There are two of you on duty tonight, right?”
“Always,” he assured her.
“You haven’t seen anyone walking around down here, have you?”
“Well, I gave Mrs. Larson—you know, in 10-D—her cat back a few minutes ago.”
She laughed. “Pussy Galore?”
“Yeah,” he said, and shook his head. “She’s got to keep that cat inside. He’s going to get run over one of these days if he doesn’t stop sneaking through the door whenever anyone goes in or out.”
She smiled and waved again. “Good night. And thanks.”
As she merged with the traffic, she decided that she was going a little bit crazy. It was all Joe’s fault, she told herself, then admitted that maybe it was at least partly her own, too. After all, she was the one who had just called in Harrison Investigations.
She had to stop her mind from playing games, that was all. All she needed was to be careful, make sure she stuck to safe places, and that she didn’t take chances.