board where the manager had listed all the classes and events for the month. “Seven am fourth Dan Judo, that’s your class. Where were you?” Her eyes beseeched Elizabeth for an answer. “If you had been here, they would still be alive, I’m sure of it...” Grace’s voice broke when she saw the guilt wash over Liz’s face. “Oh god, I’m sorry! This isn’t your fault! I never meant to say it was your fault! It’s just, well your so good...and Pam and Carl were still learning...”
“PAM AND CARL!!” Elizabeth couldn’t hold back the shriek. “ No ...” Standing, she left Grace and ran to the door leading to the studio she used for her classes. She could hear Grace calling after her, feel Barrow trying to run her down, but she was faster. Bursting through the doors, she was met with a horrific sight. The scene could have been a carbon copy of the first if not for the actual woman wearing the dress. The same pattern, same positioning, same stab wounds along the spine. Only this time it wasn’t a casual acquaintance, these people were what she might have called friends. Every inch of her wanted to scream, run to them, run away, vomit in the corner, but she did none of it. Instead, she simply stood, frozen in the doorway. She didn’t even feel Barrow grab her shoulders, only realizing the contact as he turned her so far away from the scene that she couldn’t see it anymore.
“Come on.” His voice was a whisper as he slipped his arm around her shoulders and led her down a hallway. She didn’t pull away, she couldn’t. His arm was the only thing anchoring her to the earth. They walked on that way for seconds, minutes, maybe hours for all she knew, coming to a stop in front of a small, open, supply closet. He leaned her against the wall and moved to stand before her, still bracing her shoulders with his hands, but she barely saw him.
“Elizabeth? Elizabeth! Detective Cord!” He wanted to shake her back to life, jerk her out of the state of shock that gripped her, but he was afraid of what she might do. Settling for calling her name, he tried again, “Liz!” The nickname, one he rather liked, seemed to reach her and her head lolled back to look at him. Her face was blanched and her eyes had gone a cold pale brown. In spite of himself he marveled again at how they could change like that. “Liz, hey, talk to me...” She blinked at him, her soft mouth moving, but no sound came out. He rubbed her arms a bit to warm her, she felt so cold, chilled to the bone.
“How did you know they call me Liz here?” Her voice was so weak and fragile, but she was talking to him. Smiling, he leaned in a little farther.
“That’s what Grace called you in the lobby, remember? I was there.” Staring without seeing, she nodded slowly. “Liz, tell me about your class. Does it always meet on Tuesday mornings at seven? Are Pam and Carl regulars?” He waited for her to gather her thoughts, all the while running his hands along the length of her upper arms. The effect of her skin under his finger tips was profound, but she needed him now more than he needed distance.
“Um, yes, I mean, usually. I started teaching that class ...uh...two months ago I think. Pam and Carl weren’t students, at least not exactly, they were my assistants. They helped me with the group, checking stances and monitoring forms, that sort of thing.” For a long moment she was silent and then, as if hit by a truck, she lurched forward, almost colliding with his chest. “Jesus, Barrow, they were the closest thing I had to friends here. I had dinner with them sometimes! They lived in my building! They had been married for like twenty years! They were so happy...” She leaned back against the wall, her head knocking against it, hard. Her eyes pinched shut and a single tear peeked at the corner of her left eye. Her skin turned a strange pallid color and for a moment Barrow feared she was going to faint. Deciding that she needed to sit down, he
“PAM AND CARL!!” Elizabeth couldn’t hold back the shriek. “ No ...” Standing, she left Grace and ran to the door leading to the studio she used for her classes. She could hear Grace calling after her, feel Barrow trying to run her down, but she was faster. Bursting through the doors, she was met with a horrific sight. The scene could have been a carbon copy of the first if not for the actual woman wearing the dress. The same pattern, same positioning, same stab wounds along the spine. Only this time it wasn’t a casual acquaintance, these people were what she might have called friends. Every inch of her wanted to scream, run to them, run away, vomit in the corner, but she did none of it. Instead, she simply stood, frozen in the doorway. She didn’t even feel Barrow grab her shoulders, only realizing the contact as he turned her so far away from the scene that she couldn’t see it anymore.
“Come on.” His voice was a whisper as he slipped his arm around her shoulders and led her down a hallway. She didn’t pull away, she couldn’t. His arm was the only thing anchoring her to the earth. They walked on that way for seconds, minutes, maybe hours for all she knew, coming to a stop in front of a small, open, supply closet. He leaned her against the wall and moved to stand before her, still bracing her shoulders with his hands, but she barely saw him.
“Elizabeth? Elizabeth! Detective Cord!” He wanted to shake her back to life, jerk her out of the state of shock that gripped her, but he was afraid of what she might do. Settling for calling her name, he tried again, “Liz!” The nickname, one he rather liked, seemed to reach her and her head lolled back to look at him. Her face was blanched and her eyes had gone a cold pale brown. In spite of himself he marveled again at how they could change like that. “Liz, hey, talk to me...” She blinked at him, her soft mouth moving, but no sound came out. He rubbed her arms a bit to warm her, she felt so cold, chilled to the bone.
“How did you know they call me Liz here?” Her voice was so weak and fragile, but she was talking to him. Smiling, he leaned in a little farther.
“That’s what Grace called you in the lobby, remember? I was there.” Staring without seeing, she nodded slowly. “Liz, tell me about your class. Does it always meet on Tuesday mornings at seven? Are Pam and Carl regulars?” He waited for her to gather her thoughts, all the while running his hands along the length of her upper arms. The effect of her skin under his finger tips was profound, but she needed him now more than he needed distance.
“Um, yes, I mean, usually. I started teaching that class ...uh...two months ago I think. Pam and Carl weren’t students, at least not exactly, they were my assistants. They helped me with the group, checking stances and monitoring forms, that sort of thing.” For a long moment she was silent and then, as if hit by a truck, she lurched forward, almost colliding with his chest. “Jesus, Barrow, they were the closest thing I had to friends here. I had dinner with them sometimes! They lived in my building! They had been married for like twenty years! They were so happy...” She leaned back against the wall, her head knocking against it, hard. Her eyes pinched shut and a single tear peeked at the corner of her left eye. Her skin turned a strange pallid color and for a moment Barrow feared she was going to faint. Deciding that she needed to sit down, he
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