Page 26 of Eyes in the Shadows

Oh my God. Oh my God. Yes. Yes, I was. “Uh… no. We all had to vacate because they were fumigating. I was staying at the… um, the motel. Sweet Dreams.”

Officer McCloskey whips out a pad of paper from his little breast pocket and writes something down, then his brows lift. “Super Dreams?”

I swear I’m going to pass out. My heart is hammering in my chest. Can they hear it from there? “Yeah, that one,” I say, forcing a laugh. “I always mess that up.”

Officer McCloskey exchanges a look with the detective. The guy nods once. “Have you seen this man?” the cop asks, stepping towards me with a picture outstretched in his hand.

I move forward to meet him halfway and relief floods my system. It’s not Mac. The image is grainy, maybe from some kind of security camera from the angle,and the cut of the jaw initially had me worried. Also, the size and shape of him is close to what I remember of my intruder—namely, he’s huge and built.

I shake my head, so grateful that I don’t have to lie to the police. About this, anyway. “No. Who is he?”

“He’s a person of interest in a recent incident. We think someone here might have seen something around that time.”

“Why? I mean, I’m sure everyone else here told you that the building was empty. We weren’t allowed back until Friday.” No lies detected.

The detective speaks for the first time and his voice is like a pit of gravel in South Jersey. “We have a witness that says a light came on. In this unit.” He taps my door with two blunt fingertips.

My mind blanks, then races too fast for me to grasp any single thought with both hands. Someone saw the light come on. They know someone was here. Do I lie? Do I stick with my story? Or, do I try to play it off? What if they check the cameras at the motel and see I wasn’t there during that time frame? Will they arrest me for lying? Can I say I was at work? Will they check my story with Harrison? Oh God, what do I do?

“Ma’am?”

I clear my throat, which has gone completely dry. “M-must have been an electricity surge or something. These old buildings are weird like that.”

The look he gives me does not, in any way, assuage my anxiety. I honestly can’t tell if he believes me or not. But I’m in too deep now. No going back. Time to cut and run.

My stomach lets out a loud popcorn-digesting gurgle that sounds bad enough that it gives me an idea. “Is that everything? I’m sorry, officer, but I’m really not feeling well.”

His eyes trace the sweat beading on my forehead and what is probably a ghostly white pallor from fear. He nods and flips his little notebook closed and his eyes flick side to side, looking at doors of the other two apartments. “That can be it for now, but we may have some more questions for you. Don’t leave town, Ma’am.”

I swallow again. “I never do.”

I should leave town.

10

Mac

I like how literally he takes the phrase chill out.

Oh, sweet Eleanor. You’ve done it, now.

I make it clear that I’m watching her while she’s at home, and I show her how I can see in. She could close her curtains. Could shut me out.

Instead, she communicates with me through them.

I ask her to tell me what she wants. She could tell me to back off. She could tell me to leave her alone, or to stop watching her. It would be rough to hear, but I would honor her wishes.

Instead, she asks me questions about who I am and what I do.

It’s time to step up my game. She liked the flowers; I saw her face light up through the window as she arranged them in that plastic cup. My girl clearly enjoys being wooed, maybe even likes feeling chased. I can do romance. Flowers and candy and shit aren’t usually my speed—too slow, too indirect—but I’m willing to spend some time courting her. It seems like a good way to offset being really fucking creepy.

I grin at that, because it feels almost like we’ve got an inside joke now.

She leaves her apartment after a shower and I assume from her phone activity that she’s going to the movies. I resist the urge to follow her into that dark theater where she’ll probably be the only person. Getting that close to her isn’t safe for her. Not yet, with Rossi’s guys still actively looking for us.

Wes found Dimitri’s picture circulating in the hitman-for-hire part of the web yesterday. He got it down within a couple minutes, but plenty of people in those circles know us and it’s honestly a tossup whether they’d work with us or against us. Even with the gentleman’s agreement among hitmen to not shit where youeat, having someone sell your info can often be worse than if they’d just taken the job. Good thing our real identities are so buried.

I check my watch. She’ll be at the movies for a few hours, so I’m going to take this opportunity to regroup. It’s time to report in for my actual job and take care of some personal stuff.

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