Peeping Tom turns into rapist. Rapist turns into murderer.
Andrew’s smile had intensified. It was the first time since she’d met him that he truly seemed to be enjoying himself.
Leigh broke contact before her fight or flight sent her running out of the building. She looked down at her notepad. She turned to a fresh page. She had to clear her throat again before she could speak. “We should—”
Reggie chose this moment to return. His footsteps dragged as he placed the steaming cup of coffee in front of Andrew. He sat back heavily in the chair. “What did I miss?”
“Nuance.” Andrew took a sip from the cup. He grimaced. “Damn, that’s hot.”
“It’s coffee,” Reggie said, absently checking his phone.
“I hate when I burn my mouth like that.” Andrew was looking directly at Leigh again, making sure she knew that his words were meant for her. “And then you put on your mask, and it feels like you can’t catch your breath.”
“Hate that.” Reggie wasn’t paying attention, but Leigh was.
She felt like she was caught in a tractor beam. Andrew was doing the same thing he had done the day before, luring her into his sights, gently pressing at Leigh’s weak points until he found a way to break her.
“I’ll tell you what it feels like,” Andrew said. “Like—what’s that kitchen stuff called? Is it plastic film? Cling film?”
Leigh’s breath abruptly stopped.
“Do you ever get that feeling?” Andrew asked. “Like somebody took out a roll of cling film from the kitchen drawer and wrapped it around your face six times?”
Vomit rushed into her mouth. Leigh clamped her jaw tight. She tasted the bitter remnants of lunch. Her hand went to her mouth before she could stop it.
“Dude,” Reggie said. “That’s a weird way to put it.”
“It’s horrible,” Andrew said, light playing across his dark, callous eyes.
Leigh choked the vomit back down. Her stomach pulsed with her heartbeat. This was too much. She couldn’t process it all. She needed to get away, to run, to hide.
“I—” her voice caught. “I think we have enough for today.”
Andrew asked, “Are you sure?”
There was the smirk again. There was the soft but deep voice. He was feeding off Leigh’s terror the same way he had fed off Tammy Karlsen’s.
The room turned sideways. Leigh was lightheaded. She blinked. The out-of-body sensation took over, sending her soul somewhere into the firmament while her other self performed the menial tasks that would extricate her from his talons. Left hand closing her notepad, right thumb clicking the pen, then stacking together her two phones, standing on trembling legs, turning to leave.
“Harleigh,” Andrew called.
With effort, Leigh turned back around.
His smirk had turned into a pleased grin. “Don’t forget the file.”
9
Callie scrolled through Nat Geo, reading about the African crested rat, who rubs against the bark of the poison arrow tree to store lethal poison in the porcupine-like hairs on his back. Dr. Jerry had warned her about the creature as they were counting out the cash drawer at the end of the day. If he noticed there were more crumpled twenties than usual, he didn’t bring it up. He seemed more concerned that Callie never, ever accept an invitation to one of the prickly rodent’s dinner parties.
She let the phone rest in her lap as she looked out the bus window. Her body ached the way it always ached when her brain was telling her that the two maintenance doses of methadone every day were not enough. She tried to ignore the craving, focusing instead on the sun as it flashed through the tops of passing trees. The taste of rain was in the air. Binx would want to cuddle. Dr. Jerry had persuaded Callie to take one of the twenties as a bonus. She could give it to Phil as down payment on next week’s rent and possibly something to eat for dinner, or she could get off at the next stop, head back to Stewart Avenue and buy a quantity of heroin that would have Janis Joplin clutching her pearls.
The bus wheezed to a slow stop for a red light. Callie turned in her seat, looking through the back window. Then she looked at the vehicles lined up beside the bus.
Only a handful of white dudes, but none driving a nice car.
After sneaking out of her mother’s house this morning, Callie had taken two different bus routes to Dr. Jerry’s. Then she had gotten off early and walked down the long, straight road to the clinic so that she could make sure no one was following her. Even with that, she couldn’t shake the sensation that she was going to turn around and see the camera’s unblinking eye tracking her every move.