.
but something he could consider later and know she hadn’t meant to deceive him.
She started to turn back. “Mr. Mortimer—”
A rumble of thunder, either a remnant of the storm that had passed through that afternoon or a harbinger of a new one moving in, drowned out her words. By the time it passed, he’d already closed the door. One by one the interior lights flickered off, leaving her alone outside in the dark.
A wave of sadness crashed over her. She didn’t know why. He wasn’t the first person she hadn’t had a chance to say a proper goodbye to. She knew better than to think he would be the last.
The thunder came again, far too quickly after the last rumble for comfort’s sake. She lifted her face up to the sky in time to see a jagged bolt of lightning streak across the velvet darkness. There was no mistaking it. Another storm was moving in. Another reason for her to hurry, and she already had enough of those. Pushing her melancholy thoughts to the back of her mind, she began to walk.
Fog rolled across the street, obscuring the other businesses closed for the night. Perfect weather for Halloween, she thought, with the holiday two weeks away. It was less than perfect for her already frayed nerves.
She moved quickly, chased by a cold wind that bit into her too-thin coat and chilled her to the bone. She didn’t worry about bumping into anyone. There were few people on the street at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night. Other than the bar halfway down the block, none of the businesses on the strip were open this late.
Mr. Mortimer had often worried about her walking alone at night and had offered to walk her home. She’d done her best to convince him she’d be fine. She wasn’t worried about being out by herself. With the sheer number of people who were looking for her, the idea that she would fall victim to a simple mugging defied belief.
Tonight, though, she couldn’t help the feeling of unease that clawed up her spine and had her peering through the murky grayness and searching the shadows more thoroughly than usual for any sign of harm. She was more aware of the danger than ever before. It seemed to surround her, closing in like the fog with each passing moment.
She’d been following Chastain’s trial, reading the New York papers at the nearest branch of the Chicago Public Library every couple of days. Just that morning she’d learned that Roy Taylor had skipped town two weeks before the trial was set to begin, and she knew why.
He was coming after her. She doubted he would have taken such a drastic step if he hadn’t picked up her trail. And that meant she had to get out of Chicago ASAP.
She passed the bar, too lost in her thoughts to notice the noise and the lights coming from inside. She should have left as soon as she read the story, which had already been a few days old. She knew that now. At the time the risk of staying one more day had seemed worth it. She needed her last week’s pay. The amount she had tucked away in her apartment would get her out of town, but not far enough that he wouldn’t be able to find her again—and soon. So she’d made the decision to linger just one more night.
She just had to hope it wasn’t a decision she ended up paying for.
She didn’t know exactly what warned her. It could have been a shadow shifting where there should have been nothing, or the soft scrape of shoes against pavement on what should have been a deserted street. All that mattered was that she suddenly knew she wasn’t alone.
Someone was following her.
Her heart lurched in her chest. She forced herself to keep her steps even, as steady as they’d been before that moment of intuition. There was no way to tell how far away he was or where exactly he was lurking. Still, she struggled to listen over the pounding of her heart. Even the slightest sound offered a vital clue to her pursuer’s location.
He was behind her.
How far?
Five feet?
Ten?
It was impossible to tell. He could be on her back in an instant.
The only advantage she had was that he didn’t know she was aware of his presence. He planned to catch her off guard. Her only chance was to do the same to him first.
Her mind raced through every option. Then she remembered. There was an alley up ahead, maybe only fifteen steps away. She couldn’t see it now, hidden in the gloom. But she knew it was there. He didn’t. That would make all the difference.
In her head she ticked off the steps, hoping her count was close. One. Then five. Ten. Only a measure of control she hadn’t known she possessed kept her from running.
She counted the last remaining steps, her breath hitching in her throat. One. Two. Three. Four.
And there it was.
Go!
She cut around the corner and broke into an all-out run.
Almost immediately, she heard the muffled curse, a confused noise, then the sound of someone bursting into the alley behind her.
She didn’t look back or slow for an instant. The alley was dark, dank and cramped, ripe with the odors of garbage and the sewer. She noticed none of it, couldn’t hear him behind her, couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of her shoes on the pavement. The close walls echoed the sound. He wouldn’t be able to tell how near she was or how far.
And there was no way for her to tell where the end of the alley was. The street it intersected was primarily residential, with almost no lights illuminating the road. So she kept running through the darkness, toward the darkness. She didn’t know until she suddenly cleared the smells and felt the open air wash over her that she was free.
And still she didn’t stop. Her apartment building was to the left. She cut right, back toward the well-lit business district she’d left behind. He wouldn’t be expecting her to do that. He’d expect her to head in the direction she’d originally been going. He needed her to. It would be easier for him to take her where there were fewer people, little chance that someone would interfere. That was why he hadn’t taken her on the street, had tried to follow her home. That was exactly why she couldn’t.
She took another right into the next alley, then another, working her way blindly through a network of back streets that should lead her back to the one where she’d begun. There would be people at the bar. If she could just get back there, she would be safe. He wouldn’t dare come after her in there. He didn’t want to involve the police any more than she did. She just had to get to the bar.
And when she finally spotted the phosphorescent glow that signaled the main street was up ahead, she picked up one last burst of speed, running straight for its blessed safety. She reached it within seconds, her heart thudding, nothing but hope and adrenaline coursing through her veins. Breaking through, she darted around the corner.
And straight into a wall.
A blast of cold water couldn’t have been more of a shock. She bounced back, stumbling unevenly, off balance. Hands reached out to grip her forearms.
Startled, scared, she lifted her head and found herself staring into a face that was partially hidden in shadow.
Not a wall.
A man.
Fog billowed around him, rendering him nothing but a menacing silhouette that loomed over her. It didn’t matter. She knew from the unyielding hold he had on her arms that he wasn’t about to let her go.
She should have known Taylor wouldn’t be alone.
He was one of them. He had to be.
Her limbs froze just when she needed them to fight back the most. After running for so long, it seemed impossible to believe the moment of reckoning had arrived.
They’d caught her.
“Y OU JUST MISSED him. Left not ten minutes ago.”
Ross barely heard the bartender over the raucous noise filling the bar, but