Page 30 of Wasted


Font Size:

Victoria slid her hands into the pockets of her coat, her thin, dressy wool gloves not providing enough warmth for fifteen-degree weather. She tucked her chin into the coat collar that should really come up much higher on her neck.

Trying to forget the cold starting to cut through her coat, she focused on the click of her heeled dress boots as they sounded out the steps to her car.

But what was that other noise?

A different kind of click and a different rhythm.

She glanced over her shoulder.

Shadows and patches of light from the streetlamps created a patchwork design across the empty sidewalk.

No people.

A shiver tracked down her spine. She spun away and looked ahead, walking faster.

Her imagination must be more active tonight than usual. She’d found her friend, the victim of a murder, only that morning. It was no wonder her nerves were on edge, and her mind was conjuring danger where there wasn’t any.

She turned the corner to the next block.

Loud music blared from the bar ahead, its yellow signage flashing. At least the intoxicated customers that loitered outside the bar in the summertime were indoors in the warmth. Although even their unruly presence might be helpful to calm her imaginings of a nighttime phantom.

The pounding bass beats from the music inside the bar thudded loudly as she passed, drowning out any chance of hearing a follower.

But why would anyone be following her? The logical question paused the rapid trot of her pulse.

Even if Thomas had been murdered, that wouldn’t mean she was suddenly in danger. There were no greater risks to her now than on a normal evening when she walked the dark Chicago streets.

Come to think of it, the risk of danger when walking alone in Chicago at night was always quite high.

She kept up her quick clip as she left the bar music behind and strained to hear past the cold wind that singed her ears.

The fading music was all that was audible for several minutes.

Wait. There it was. The same sound behind her.

Footsteps.

Her pulse sprinted. Adrenaline and cold fright flowed into her bloodstream. Better to face an enemy head-on than be attacked from behind.

She stopped and turned around, gripping the strap of her bag with one hand. Maybe she could use it as a weapon.

But only the shadowed, empty sidewalk met her scrutiny.

She slowly released her held breath. This was ridiculous. She would never make it on time to Dad’s if she kept checking for a phantom.

She aimed forward again, determined to control her imagination and reach her car before her fingers froze. Perhaps she should speak with Treese about finding a different location for her fitness studio, one that had an adjacent parking lot.

The sight of traffic at the stoplight ahead was comforting. Even though she had to wait at the corner for the traffic to pass through, it meant people were present. A deterrent to anyone who might have nefarious intent.

As she waited, hands sheltered in her pockets, a man and woman walked up to the light on the opposite corner and also waited to cross. They’d arrived separately, so didn’t seem to be together. But the presence of fellow pedestrians who appeared harmless was also a balm to her nerves.

The light changed, and Victoria crossed the street, nodding to the other pedestrians as they passed.

Only a short distance left now. She pushed a little faster as the traffic sounds faded and the number of cars on the road dwindled. She would park in the most isolated area.

Clip, clip.

The unmistakable sound reached her ears.