So maybe notallmy neighbors were going to be friendly.
I barely closed the door and had turned away when a loud pounding rattled it again. Irritated with the crochety old man, I shot a glance toward the hallway where Henry slept then yanked open the door.
“Listen, Mr. Dean—”
My words died on my tongue. The hallway was empty. I poked my head out farther, looking down the hall one way and then the other. At each end, the white curtains billowed in the cross-breeze, lifting and falling in a graceful dance.
As I peered down toward the end with the missing gate, the curtains lifted again, and just for a heartbeat, revealed a pair of bare feet before the sheer material drifted down, settling upon what appeared to be the figure of a woman.
“Be careful!” I yelled, rushing out of my apartment and toward the figure. “You’ll fall!”
But I’d only gone a few steps before the curtains lifted once more, revealing nothing but the open doorway. I stopped short, suddenly finding it difficult to move. “What the hell?”
Pushing through my momentary paralysis, I slowly backed toward the apartment, my eyes never leaving the curtains as they continued to flutter. As soon as I reached the door, I pivoted and grasped the doorknob with both hands, but it refused to turn.
Locked.
With Henry asleep inside.
“Shit!”
Instinctively, I patted my hips, immediately reminded that my sundress had no pockets.Of course.But even if it had, I now recalled the key was still on the credenza.
Right next to my phone.
I groaned and pressed my forehead to the door.
Shit, shit, shit.
I tried the door again, just in case I hadn’t turned the knob hard enough, but it refused to budge. I slammed my palm against the door several times, hoping it might wake Henry so he could let me back in.
“Henry?” I called, pounding again. “Wake up, baby. Come let Mama in!”
I pressed my ear to the door, listening for movement, but heard nothing but the softthwapof the curtains in the breeze. I tried twice more, but sometimes when Henry was asleep, a freight train running through his bedroom couldn’t wake him.
I cursed again and leaned back against the door. The buzz of a saw droned somewhere outside. I rushed to the gated door and wrangled the curtains out of the way to see if maybe the noise was Chase working down below. But the yard was empty.
“Damn it,” I spat, sending a conflicted glance toward the apartment. I’d have to go hunt down Chase to get him to open the door. But what if Henry woke up while I was gone? What if he went wandering out of the apartment to look for me? What if he saw the barefooted woman, too, and got too close to the open door? What if—
“Stop it, Zellie!” I ordered aloud, pushing the intrusive thoughts out of my mind. The longer I waited, deliberated, imagining the worst-case scenarios, the more likely it was that Henry might wake up.
I hurried toward the elevator, glancing around nervously, not eager to encounter the person whose feet I’d seen earlier. I was a few steps from the elevator when a door creaked open behind me, bringing me up short. I swallowed hard. My stomach twisted with fear as I forced myself to turn around.
Our apartment door stood open, the stained-glass lampshades spilling dim, jeweled light into the hallway.
My steps were slow, hesitant as I approached the doorway. My heart pounded in my ears, the pulsingwooshof my blood drowning out any other sound. I tried to swallow again, but my mouth had gone dry.
When I reached the doorway, I peered cautiously inside. “Henry?”
No answer.
I placed my palm on the door and eased it open, then scanned the living room.
Nothing.
Relief loosened the knots in my stomach. “Nice, Zellie,” I muttered. “No more scary movies for you.”
I turned to close the door.And screamed.
