Page 2 of Dead Pretty

This guy could just be a creature of habit. And I’m acting like a total paranoid wack job.

The stranger’s eyes suddenly flick up from his laptop and look straight at the bookshelves I’m standing behind. Like he knows that I’m here, observing him.

My breath catches, and I jump back, knocking into the shelves behind me.

“Shit,” I hiss, rubbing my elbow that I just banged on the wood.

When the ache in my arm subsides, I take a measured step back to the shelves and peer through the gap in the books.

He’s back to looking at his laptop.

He doesn’t know I’m hiding behind here, scrutinizing and analyzing him.

Just like Tobias did to me.

A shudder runs up my spine, making the back of my neck prickle.

Look what I’ve turned into.

A suspicious, lurking, untrusting lunatic.

I work in a public library, and because some new guy has started coming in, I think he has an ulterior motive.

Like he’s here to kill me.

Christ.

I have never even spoken to the guy, not even gotten within a few feet of him, and I have pegged him as a fan of Tobias Ripley’s work. Or worse, a copycat, and he’s come to finish the job that Tobias didn’t when he left me alive that night.

I have officially lost my mind.

I step back from the stacks and press my hands to my face as I let out a breath.

I just need to get back to work, putting these returned books away, and forget all about the stranger over there.

He’s not here for me.

I’m safe now.

I pick a book up from the pile of returns on the cart. Check the numbered code on the spine and slide it back into its home. Ready for someone else to check it out.

When my shift at the library is over, I walk back to my apartment. I take a leisurely stroll. I’m not in any particular rush. It’s not snowing at the moment, and it’s not like I have anything to get home for.

Although it might not be snowing, it’s still as cold as balls here in Jackson. Typical Wyoming weather for this time of year. Not that I’m from around here. But when I moved here, I quickly learned to keep myself well wrapped up, so I wouldn’t freeze to death.

It’s not a way I want to die.

It’s on my list, among a few other routes to death, of things I would rather avoid.

I meander down the sidewalk, and I people-watch as I go. I’m not really sure why I do it because all it does is make me feel envious of those people living their lives the way they want to. Out shopping with friends or loved ones. Couples hand in hand.

And now, all I’m reminded of is what my life used to be like before everything happened.

If you had asked me a couple of years ago where I saw myself, it sure as hell wouldn’t have been here.

I decide to stop at the coffee shop I pass daily and grab a takeout hot chocolate.

I push through the door and enter the warmth of the shop. My eyes do a quick scan of the place, and I stop in my tracks.