She took a deep breath. Calmer now, she started walking along Newbury Street, toward the garage where she’d parked her car. Today was the first time she’d driven in months, the first time she’d felt comfortable walking without the cane, but her pace was still slow and her leg ached from this unaccustomed exertion. Everyone else walked at a far brisker pace, streaming past her like swifter fish in a river, no doubt wondering why someone so young and apparently healthy had the pace of an old woman.
A few more blocks to go.
Then she saw him. A block ahead, almost lost among the crowd. Even on this warm night, he was wearing the raincoat he’d worn at the cemetery. She halted, not sure how to avoid him. Hoping he hadn’t seen her.
Too late. He turned and their gazes met. Held. That’s when all her doubts vanished. This was no random encounter; he had followed her here.
And now he was heading straight toward her.
Jane and Frost found Amy sitting alone at a table at the back of the bar, huddled into such a small silhouette that she was almost invisible in the gloom. It was eight p.m. on a Friday and the crowd was wall-to-wall, young people liberated from their work week, ready to drink and dance and maybe find that special someone. In a room of thumping music and loud voices, Amy Antrim was a silent wraith, hiding in the shadows.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Amy said. “My dad’s at work and I can’t reach my mom. I didn’t know what else to do, and you did tell me to call you.”
“You did just the right thing,” Jane said.
“I was afraid to walk to my car.” Amy looked around at the crowd. “I thought I’d be safer if I stayed right here, with all these people around.”
Jane and Frost sat down at her table. “Tell us exactly what happened,” said Jane.
Amy took a deep breath to steady herself. “I came downtown to do some shopping. Well, window-shopping, actually. I went into a shoe shop just up the street and I was browsing inside when I saw him, through the window. He was standing across the street, looking at me. Not just looking, but staring with this expression of…of hunger.”
“Are you sure it was the same man?”
“I wasn’t, not at first. I caught only a glimpse before he walked away. And I thought, okay, it might be someone else. It had to be someone else, because how would he know where to find me?”
“You said you parked your car here,” said Frost.
“Yes. In the garage down the street.”
“Did you drive here alone?”
She nodded. “It’s the first time I’ve driven since the accident. I’ve avoided coming downtown because my leg hurts if I walk too long.”
“You came here straight from your parents’ home?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell anyone you were coming downtown?”
“No. My mom was at her yoga class, and I needed to get out of the house. After all these weeks, it’s time for me to get back on my feet. To do something fun for once. My mom was worried about that man, but I wasn’t. I never really thought…” Amy glanced around the crowded bar, searching the faces. Even with two detectives sitting at her table, she acted like prey, scanning for predators.
“What happened next?” said Jane. “After the shoe store?”
“I stepped outside, to see if the man was still around. When I didn’t spot him right away I thought, okay, maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was someone else.” Again she scanned the bar, still wary, still on high alert. “Then I saw him, on the street. It was him, I know it. He started coming toward me, and that’s when I freaked out. I ducked into the first crowded place I could find and hid out as long as I could in the ladies’ room. I thought he’d never attack me in here. Not with all these people around.”
But would anyone in this room pay attention? Jane wondered. They were all too busy tossing back drinks to register the scared young woman in the shadows. In this crowd, with this loud music, who would notice a gun, a knife, until it was too late?
“Amy,” said Frost, “why do you think this man is following you?”
“I wish I knew. I’ve tried and tried to remember where we met before, but I can’t come up with an answer. I just know there’s something familiar about his face.”
The music thumped and a waitress glided past with a tray of martinis as Jane studied Amy’s face in the gloom. She let a moment pass before asking, “Do you know the name James Creighton?”
“No. Should I?”