Page 35 of Say Yes to the Death

“That is one dedicated and suspiciously informed prankster,” she said as he held the door to the fourth floor open for her.

They walked down the hallway, passing several unremarkable still life paintings of the West Haven area. Rosie darted from side to side, sniffing each doorstep.

Claire approached her door and slapped her forehead.

“Shit. I didn’t do a dance.”

“What?” Sawyer asked.

She twisted the doorknob and found it unlocked. She pushed it open. Whoops.

“You know, your new security system is only as good as the door that’s keeping people out,” he hinted.

“I forgot in all the kerfuffle,” she said, shrugging. “I’ll be right back,” she said sheepishly, running into her bedroom and throwing on her Camp Susquehanna shirt and a pair of paint-stained athletic shorts she found in the back of a drawer. She really needed to do some laundry.

“That looks bad,” Sawyer said when she got back to the living room.

She looked down at her T-shirt. Her nipples had hardened in the frigid air and were definitely poking through the shirt. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I wasn’t planning on hitting the runway in it.”

“Not your shirt. Your shins.”

She glanced down at her battered shins. “Oh. That does explain the searing pain.” The jacket was heavy in her hand as she passed it back to him. “Thank you so much. You saved me. Again. At least this time I was only likely to die from embarrassment and hypothermia and not from a homicidal maniac.”

“You were significantly easier to rescue this time. I’ll see you later. Lock the door behind me.” He waved as he left.

Claire let Rosie off her leash and rinsed her hair in the sink. She towel dried it as best as she could and collapsed into bed, a halo of wet hair surrounding her. The news of the fire alarm clouded her mind. Who had pulled it? And why?

After plugging her phone in, she briefly ran through her schedule for the next day. It was time to put this catastrophically crappy day behind her. She stretched, thoroughly exhausted, reaching one hand under her pillow to support her head. Her fingers brushed against something, and she shot up like she had been electrocuted. An envelope slid out from under her pillow.

What the hell was this? She hadn’t been sleep-hiding her mail, had she?

There was no name or address on the outside. This hadn’t come from the postal service. Her stomach dropped, and she tore the envelope open. Inside was a plain white sheet of paper. Spiky, slanted handwriting covered the sheet.

You won’t escape next time.

Claire froze. Her pulse skyrocketed. The note fell from her hand and fluttered onto the duvet. Static buzzed incessantly in her ears as she tumbled out of bed and onto her hardwood floor.

It couldn’t be happening again. Barney was in prison. Had he paid someone to harass her? Even though he was imprisoned, he had vast reserves of cash.

Were the walls closing in? That must be why her vision was darkening at the edges. Her heart thudded erratically. She climbed to her knees. Pain shot through her chest. Oh god, was she having a heart attack on top of everything?

Rosie leapt down from her side of the bed and whined, pressing her front legs onto Claire’s chest and licking her face.

Summoning every ounce of strength she had left, Claire crawled out of the room and away from the note. Short gasps racked her body. What was wrong with her? Her anxiety had been through the roof since the abduction, but this was something worse. Was she dying? Some latent injury from her stab wound?

She needed to go check the security camera and look for footage. Or call for help. But her limbs weren’t cooperating, and she had just abandoned her phone in the room with the threatening note. Could the note-leaver still be here?

The thought drove her to her feet. She stumbled to the front door and smashed the panic button on her security alarm. An LED on the console blinked.

Brrrrrr. That was the sound of Claire’s phone vibrating on the bed. But she wasn’t about to go fetch it. The intruder could still be in the apartment. She hadn’t even checked the bedroom closet. A prickle of fear ran up her spine.

Acting on instinct, she grabbed the console table in the hallway and dragged it in front of the bedroom door. There. That would at least slow him down. Now what? She crossed to the living room and pulled a Taser out of her purse. It settled in her pocket, but it didn’t feel like enough.

A sword on her drying rack caught her eye. Kyle had used it to dramatically open a bottle of sparkling wine on pizza night. She darted into the kitchen and picked it up. It swung in front of her as she moved into the hallway.

Rosie followed hot on Claire’s heels, still whining. The sword trembled in her hand while her breath came in sharp jabs. She approached the hallway closet, stepping silently across the floor.

“HA!” she screamed, flinging the doors open with one hand and stabbing into the closet with the sword.

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