Page 44 of Dead Pretty

I reach the crowd of people, coming to a stop.

This scene isn’t something I like or even want to be around. It reminds me too much of my past. But I’m compelled to stay for some reason.

“Girl’s been murdered,” a voice says next to me.

I turn my head to the person. A woman with a grandmotherly face and grayish tint to her faded brown hair is looking back at me. She’s bundled up like I am in a thick brown wool coat and a knit scarf.

“Found her dead this morning. I didn’t know her well. She lived in the apartment above me. Sarah, she was called. Always smiled and said hello.”

I’m staring at her mouth, trying to take in the words coming from them. Her teeth are crooked and have a slight yellowing to them that comes only from smoking.

“It’s scary, something like this happening on your own doorstep. You just don’t expect it, do you?”

She puts one of those e-cigarettes in her mouth and starts to puff on it. “Had to give up the smokes.” She gestures to the e-cigarette like I asked her a question. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Do … did … they say what happened to the girl?”

She takes another puff of her e-cigarette and shrugs. “Just know that the super found her this morning. Blood everywhere, he said. It’s shocked the hell out of him, and that man is as tough as they come. Was in the military. Went to ’Nam. Seen it all. But said he had seen nothing like this.”

“Blood everywhere.”

My vision starts to go hazy.

Another girl dead.

“Such a shame,” she continues. “A real waste. Pretty girl she was.”

“What did she look like?” The words shoot out of me like bullets.

A flash of surprise covers the woman’s face. Probably from my hard tone.

She shrugs again. “Blonde. Pretty. Kinda like you.”

“Kinda like you.”

I feel winded.

No. It can’t be right.

“You’re sure she looked like me?”

She frowns. Her set lines creasing deeper. “You okay, honey? You look a little pale. Did you know Sarah?”

“No.” I shake my head, taking a step backward. “I just …” You just what? Make something up, so you don’t sound crazy. “It’s just … worrisome. A murder happening so close by.”

She nods, puffing on that e-cigarette. It smells like candy. It’s making me feel sick.

“You live round here?”

“Next building,” I tell her.

She nods. “Well, I wouldn’t worry, hon. I imagine it was her boyfriend. Usually is when things like this happen.”

“She had a boyfriend?”

“Yeah. I saw her with him every now and then.”

A weird feeling of relief passes through me. I mean, she had a boyfriend, and most murders happen at the hand of those you know and love. It’s only rare occasions when people are murdered by strangers. Even rarer when a stranger kills because of an obsession with you.