“Okay, but only a little more.” Smiling as I open the fridge, I take another slice of turkey and drop it on her plate. “I’ll get you something better in the morning.”
Leaving the kitchen, I make my way through the dim apartment. The space seems bigger at night. Cavernous. Abysmal. As if the mansion has swallowed me whole.
As I head upstairs, I’m aware of the oil portraits looming above me. Their facial details are lost in the dark, but I feel their eyes tracking my steps, their scorn slicking my skin.
I’m halfway up when a sound rises.
Barely a shift of air, soft and muted. Like someone in a corner whispering . . .Hush.
I freeze in place, listening.
Silence thickens, and a sensation crawls on the back of my neck. An indescribable feeling ofother. A feeling that I’m not alone.
Ric’s name surfaces, greasy and unwelcome. His voice curls around the edges of my mind, whispering,I’ll take care of you.
Lightning illuminates the apartment, pulsing like a strobe on the creepy portraits.
Slowly, cautiously, I lean over the railing and peer down. The grand piano gleams in the corner, a sliver of light on its shiny black lid.
Logic tells me I’m overreacting, but logic is fragile in the face of fear.
And instinct always rules in the dark.
Seconds pass. Still, I hear nothing. No sigh or rustle or bump in the night.
“Because it’s fine.” My whisper sounds loud in the heavy silence. “There’s nothing downstairs.”
Nothing but cavernous rooms with ancient Gothic vibes. Enough to give anyone the chills.
Plus, all the talk of death is getting to me.
Suicide.
Murder.
Little girls lost in dark tunnels.
Not to mention the creepy screenplay I’m reading.
More and more, I’m becoming Claudia. When she feels paranoid, so do I. When she feels terror, chills race down my arms.
Which is exactly why Lin sent me here. In this big, empty place, I can relate to Claudia. I’ve never been much of a method actor, but the atmosphere of the apartment is a lesson in realism.
Because I understand what it means to be alone and afraid.
No matter how I rationalize, my mind won’t settle. Won’t let it go. I need to check all the doors, or I’ll never fall asleep.
Annoyed with my reaction, I grip the banister and hurry back down, as if speed will ward off any unseen threats.
It’s a straight shot to the front door, so I can see through the glass from where I stand.
Spindly tree limbs. Evergreen shrubs. Black fence.
I creep to the door, stopping inches from the glass, and slide my hand to the doorknob. Locked.
Taking the short corridor to the kitchen, I stop to look out the windows. From there, I cut through the butler’s pantry to the dining room. Ambient light filters in from the park, coming through a set of French doors. I check the locks here, too.
Exiting from a different door, I find myself in the back hallway, with the second set of connecting doors at the far end. Could the sound have come from there?
