Joel walks her to the subway station. One block away from the station, he reaches out and takes her hand in his. Her heart leaps when he does that. It’s been so long since she’s held hands with a man. Too long. And far longer since she’s held hands with a man she really liked.
She wonders if the last person whose hand he held was Francesca.
He kisses her one final time before she sinks into the subway station. The kiss is not at all tarnished by the scent of urine that seems to cling to every subway station in the city. It takes all her willpower to send him on his way.
While her body jolts with each bump on the subway ride downtown to her apartment, Cassie replays the kiss in her head. She closes her eyes and relives it over and over. Every time, she gets that leap of excitement in her chest. She can’t wait to see him again. He promised he’d call tomorrow, and she’s certain he will keep that promise. Maybe Joel really will be her Heathcliff. Her Marv.
Cassie has ridden this subway hundreds of times, but it’s usually several hours earlier than this. She hates to admit that it isn’t as crowded as she thought it would be. As she’d like it to be. She glances around the subway car at the other occupants. A homeless man in a ratty coat sprawled across four seats in a restless sleep. Three teenage boys at the far end, talking smack about some girl. And at the other end, an attractive woman in her thirties with long, dark hair.
There’s nothing specifically threatening in this car, but Cassie hugs her purse to her chest, willing the train to move faster. It occurs to her now that she left the rose Joel bought her on the seat in the sushi bar. Well, it’s too late to get it now.
The boys stand up as the train grinds to a halt. They get out at the door next to Cassie, and one of them leers at her just before they get off the train. “Wanna join us, baby?” he asks.
“No, thanks.” Cassie rolls her eyes. The boys are harmless—she can tell that much. But there’s still something in the train car making her uneasy.
She glances at the woman at the far end of the train. The woman is staring listlessly out the far window. It should comfort her to see another woman on the train, but it doesn’t.
When the train finally comes to Cassie’s stop, she leaps out of her seat. She hops off the train, minding the substantial gap between the car and the platform. The tight feeling in her chest loosens up as she gets off the train, until she notices the platform is even more desolate than the train was. She strides purposefully down the platform toward the stairs.
As the train dashes off to its next stop, she can’t help but notice the car she’d been in is now entirely empty.
It is a two-block walk from the train station to Cassie’s home. Usually it’s a quick walk, but at this moment, those two blocks seem endless. She shivers under her Yankees hoodie, wrapping her arms across her chest. Why didn’t she let Joel get her a taxi? Stupid pride.
She starts to walk down the block, past the animal shelter, past the drug store, past the bank. Everything is closed now. And when she’s halfway down the block, she notices something.
With every one of her own steps, she hears a second set of footsteps.
There’s someone behind her.
Well, why shouldn’t there be someone behind her? After all, it’s Friday night—it’s reasonable there should be other people on the street.
Except there’s something in Cassie’s gut telling her whoever is behind her isn’t an innocent partygoer. It’s a dark feeling in the pit of her stomach. There’s someone following her.
When her Grandma Bea was alive, she used to sometimes read aloud stories in the newspaper about disappearances. Girl went out on a jog and never returned. Cassie strained her memory, trying to think of one story of a missing girl her age that ended well. She couldn’t.
The stories never scared Cassie. She was too smart to let anything happen to her. What sort of idiot goes jogging at five in the morning anyway? That’s just asking for trouble.