Page 66 of Blades Out
I shoved the thoughts down and grabbed my bag.
The hallway outside my apartment was quiet. Normal. The fluorescent light overhead buzzed faintly, casting everything in that flat, clinical glow I'd gotten used to. I locked the door twice—habit now—and headed for the stairs.
Outside, the morning air hit me cool and sharp. I pulled my jacket tighter and scanned the parking lot.
And stopped.
Something felt wrong.
The trash can near the dumpster had been tipped over, garbage spilling across the asphalt in a dark, wet stain. That wasn't unusual—raccoons, maybe—but the lid sat upright against the wall like someone had moved it deliberately.
My stomach tightened.
I forced myself to keep walking. Told myself I was being paranoid. Told myself it meant nothing.
But then I saw the car. Dark sedan. Unfamiliar. Idling near the complex entrance with the engine running, exhaust curling into the cold air. Tinted windows. No one visible inside.
A cold ripple crawled down my spine.
I slowed. Glanced at it from the corner of my eye. Tried to look casual, like I hadn't noticed.
The car didn't move.
My pulse kicked up, loud in my ears. My breathing quickened despite my efforts to stay calm.
You're imagining it.
You're overreacting.
It's just someone waiting for a friend.
But my hands trembled as I adjusted my bag strap. My feet wanted to stop. Turn around. Go back inside and lock the door and call?—
Call who?
Marsha? The police? And say what—that a car was parked near my building?
I forced myself forward. One step. Another. The bus stop was two blocks away. Two blocks in open daylight on a street where people walked dogs and joggers passed by and nothing bad could happen because it was morning and I was fine.
The car stayed where it was.
I didn't look back.
By the time I reached the corner, my chest hurt from holding my breath. I exhaled shakily and glanced over my shoulder.
The sedan was gone.
Relief flooded through me so fast it left me dizzy. I leaned against the bus stop sign and pressed a hand to my ribs, willing my heart to slow.
You're fine.
You're safe.
You're overreacting.
But the cold feeling in my spine didn't fade.
And when the bus pulled up, I couldn't shake the sense that someone had been watching me leave.
