Chasing Shadows by Valerie Sherrard Page A

was looking for another job she’d have said something about it. But she didn’t. Not a word. I have a bad feeling about the whole thing.”
    â€œYou sure you’re not dreaming this up — inventing something that needs detecting?” Greg leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “I think you’re getting addicted to chasing clues.”
    â€œC’mon, Greg. I’m serious about this. I’m kind of worried.”
    â€œWell, why don’t you just give her a call and see what’s up?” Greg didn’t seem any more concerned thanBen or Lisa had been, and it made me wonder if I was overreacting. I’ve been known to do that.
    â€œI can’t call her,” I said. “She has no phone.”
    â€œSo then, drop by.” He slid an arm around me. That Greg can sure be distracting sometimes! “If it’s bothering you, and it seems that it is, then you should check it out and put your mind at rest.”
    â€œYeah, that’s what I’ll do.” Just deciding on a course of action made me feel a bit better. No doubt I’d get to her place and she’d laugh at me for being a big worrier for nothing.
    I was scheduled to work at noon the next day, so first thing in the morning I took Greg’s advice and walked over to Nadine’s apartment. When I got to her door, a strange shiver ran up my back and I had to talk to myself about not being so dramatic and paranoid.
    Except, maybe I wasn’t. Maybe what I’d felt was some sort of premonition. Because when I knocked, the door swung open on its own, the slow creak of the tired old hinge almost making me scream.
    I called out Nadine’s name a few times, but the only reply was an ominous silence.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    I hesitated in the doorway for a few seconds and then stepped into Nadine’s apartment. It probably wasn’t right, just walking in like that, but it was obvious something was amiss. She’d once told me how careful she was about keeping her place bolted, and here it was with the door not even properly closed, never mind locked.
    â€œNadine?” I called again, moving slowly through the kitchen. I knew, deep inside, that she wasn’t going to answer. My instincts had been right — something was dreadfully wrong. I looked around carefully, as though there might be some evidence that would explain why Nadine had gone off and left her place open.
    On the kitchen counter sat a bowl with a half-eaten orange resting on top of peelings. Beside it were an empty coffee mug and a plate with toast crumbs. Itseemed to be the remains of breakfast, but there was no way of knowing when it had been left there.
    I stood for a moment, just looking around the room, as if it might offer some clue to Nadine’s whereabouts. It was really quiet in there, which kind of creeped me out. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but the silence of the place was unnerving.
    When I reached the living room the first thing that caught my eye was a dark, wet-looking blotch on the floor. At the sight of it, the urge to turn around and run back out the door almost overcame me. I grabbed the doorway to steady myself.
    â€œPlease tell me that isn’t blood,” I found myself whispering to the empty room.
    Not surprisingly, the room had no comment. If I was going to find out what it was, I’d have to examine it, like you see detectives do in the movies. Of course most of that stuff is figured out by forensics these days, but I didn’t happen to have a lab at home.
    My legs seemed to have turned wooden and it was all I could do to make them move forward. They were shaking so hard by the time I reached the spot that sinking to my knees was no problem at all.
    I leaned forward to get a closer look, which told me nothing. Reluctantly, I stuck my finger out and touched it. It was still sticky. Slowly, I raised my finger to my nose and sniffed, not even sure if I’d recognize