The officer chuckled and tucked his palm-sized notebook into his shirt pocket. “No worries, ma’am. I’m sure they had good intentions. Had to come check it out. You understand.”
“Of course!” Kitty assured him. “Ihavebeen so emotional—nerves, I guess. So it’s possible someone heard me crying and just misunderstood.”
“My wife was the same way when we were expecting our first,” the officer commiserated. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Wright. I’m sure everything will be fine.”
I watched the performance from beside Iris’s desk, trying to keep my mouth from falling open in disbelief. They were faking it—whateveritwas. What Kitty was going through wasn’t just a case of jittery nerves. It was fear wearing a phony smile. And Kitty’s fury when she glanced at me again confirmed it. And complicated it.
The man—who I now realized was Billy Wayne—extended his hand to the officer. “Thank you, sir. Glad you cared enough to look in on my beautiful wife.”
As the officer passed me, he nodded in polite greeting. The second the door shut behind him, Kitty pegged me with another venomous glare, Billy Wayne adding one of his own.
Only then did I realize several other residents of Dawes House had gathered in the foyer during the Wrights’ exchange with law enforcement. Each of them gave me a disapproving look before slipping wordlessly back into their apartments.
They knew it was me who’d called in the anonymous tip. I didn’t know how. But they knew.
“Don’t worry.”
I jumped at the sudden voice behind me. Merilee sat on the edge of the front desk, legs elegantly crossed. She unfolded them and approached with slow, deliberate grace, then placed her hands on my shoulders.
“They’ll come around,” she said, her tone sympathetic. “We’re all a family at Dawes House. And we want you to bepartof that family. But there are certain rules you just can’t break, Zellie-girl.”
She gave me a pointed look as she drifted away toward the hallway that led to the elevators. I stared after her, wondering what in the hell that was supposed to mean and why it sounded like a warning. Or a threat.
I stood in the center of the foyer, alone, for a few more baffled minutes, not understanding what had transpired.
“Run!”
The faint voice whispered, harsh, urgent near my ear, a warning so sudden I flinched and snapped my head around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the speaker.
A burst of icy breath—now in the other ear.
I whipped around in that direction. But the foyer was empty. The shadows stretched long and menacing across the floorboards as the sun slowly sank to the west, the sunlight that had been so vibrant now growing muddy and bland.
Around me, the air grew heavy, thick. It pressed in on me, weighing down my limbs, making it difficult to move, impossible to breathe. I clutched my chest, my lungs burning, fighting for air. Panic dug its claws into my skin, slashing, shredding, pulling me apart bit by bit. I tried to scream, plead for help, but no sound came. I stumbled forward, arm outstretched, grasping desperately for anything,anyone—
“Zellie!”
The pressure and panic instantly lifted. I gasped, air slamming into my lungs so hard my body arched backward, and I would’ve fallen had someone not caught me. Strong arms pulled me close for one steadying moment before guiding me to the game room and easing me into one of the plush velvet chairs.
“Slowly, slowly…”
I closed my eyes, forcing a long inhale, then another, releasing each breath slowly until the room stopped spinning. When I opened my eyes, Whit was kneeling in front of me, holding my hand, his thumb stroking lightly over my skin. His brows were drawn tight with worry.
And then a flash of something else, warm, electric, shot through me. My breath hitched. Embarrassment burned my cheeks.
“Oh, my God,” I muttered, yanking my hand away and trying to stand, only for Whit to gently guide me back down.
“Give it a few minutes,” he insisted. “Just breathe. Make sure you’re steady.”
I nodded, still anything but steady but not wanting to sit there feeling like an idiot any longer than I had to. “I’m good,” I lied, forcing a smile. “I need to go pick up Henry. June will be wondering where I am.”
Whit shrugged. “June can wait. You want to tell me what happened?”
I hesitated, debating, but then shook my head. “It was nothing. Just a panic attack. I’m fine.”
He gave me a disbelieving look but didn’t press. Instead, he went to the alcohol cabinet and poured a finger of what appeared to be brandy and handed it to me. “For your nerves.”
I didn’t typically touch hard liquor, but when I took a sip, the warmth of the amber liquid as it slid down my throat had a surprisingly comforting effect. I took another sip before handing him the glass.
