into her eyes and made them
ache. It was frigid, an icy blast after the heat of the summer night. Yet under her
chilled skin her blood beat hot, like a fever raging.
She headed for Vending, digging into her pockets, her mind on food and
caffeine. A woman sat on the floor beside the machines, her face in her hands,
weeping.
“I’m scared. I’m scared,” she repeated. “Nobody sees me now.”
“What’s the problem?” As Eve crouched down, the woman dropped her
hands. Her face, livid with bruising, shone with shock and what might have been
hope.
“You can see me?”
“Of course I can see you. You need medical attention. Take it easy. I’m
going to get someone, then—”
“It’s too late.” Tears ran down the swollen face as the woman dipped her
head again. “Look what he did to me.”
Eve froze as she stared at the gaping wound on the back of the woman’s
head, at the dried blood matting the hair, soaking the blouse.
“Hold on. Just—” Eve reached out, and her hand passed through the
woman’s arm. “Jesus God.”
“It was Rennie.” Sniffling, she pushed the heels of her hands through the
tears.
“What are you? What is this?”
“I don’t know, but I have to tell
somebody
. It was Rennie,” she repeated.
“The bastard. He was mad at me ‘cause I helped Sara get away from him. He
must’ve followed me from work, and when I was in the park, he was just there.
And he yelled and he hit me. He kept hitting me, and I couldn’t get away.
Nobody came to help. Nobody saw, and he hit me and hit me, and I fell. And he
picked up a rock and he killed me. It’s not right. What am I going to do now?
I’m scared to be here. I’m scared to be dead.”
Eve couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe. “This has to stop.”
“Rennie killed me.”
The woman—the hallucination—held out her hands. Tore them up, Eve
thought in some cold part of her brain. Tore them up when she fell, when she
tried to crawl away.
“He killed me, and now I won’t ever get married or eat ice cream or buy
new shoes and have drinks with Sara. Rennie Foster killed me with a rock in
Riverside Park, and maybe he’ll kill Sara next. What’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know.”
“Aren’t I supposed to go somewhere? I don’t want to stay here. It’s cold
here. It’s too cold and it’s too bright. Can you help me? I’m Janna, Janna
Dorchester, and I didn’t do anything wrong. Is this hell?”
“No.” But she wasn’t entirely sure.
Maybe hell was cold and bright. Maybe hell was losing your mind.
“Eve.” Roarke dropped down beside her, took her arms. “Christ, you’re
burning up. Come on now.”
He started to lift her, but she resisted. “No. Wait.” She sucked in a breath,
shuddered it out. “You don’t see her?”
He pressed a hand to her forehead. “I see you, sitting on the floor of the
morgue looking like a ghost.”
“At one,” she murmured.
“I guess he can’t see me because I’m dead and everything,” Janna said. “Why
do you?”
“I don’t know. I need Morris,” she told Roarke. “And God, I need
something to drink.”
“Don’t leave me,” Janna begged, dropping her head again so Eve could see
the ugly wound that killed her. “Please don’t leave me here alone.”
“I’m just going to sit here. Bring Morris, will you? I just… need to sit
here.” Deal, she ordered herself. Deal with what’s in front of you, then figure
out the rest. “Could really use something cold to drink.”
Roarke rose, cursing under his breath as he ordered a tube of Pepsi.
“He’s gorgeous.” Janna smiled a little even as she knuckled at tears. “Mega
frosted. Is he your boyfriend?”
“We’re married,” Eve murmured.
“Seriously icy for you,” Janna said as Roarke glanced down.
“So we are,” he said. “And I’ll be taking my wife to a doctor in short order.
I’ll get you Morris first, but then you’re done here.”
“He’s got a really sexy voice, too.” Janna
ache. It was frigid, an icy blast after the heat of the summer night. Yet under her
chilled skin her blood beat hot, like a fever raging.
She headed for Vending, digging into her pockets, her mind on food and
caffeine. A woman sat on the floor beside the machines, her face in her hands,
weeping.
“I’m scared. I’m scared,” she repeated. “Nobody sees me now.”
“What’s the problem?” As Eve crouched down, the woman dropped her
hands. Her face, livid with bruising, shone with shock and what might have been
hope.
“You can see me?”
“Of course I can see you. You need medical attention. Take it easy. I’m
going to get someone, then—”
“It’s too late.” Tears ran down the swollen face as the woman dipped her
head again. “Look what he did to me.”
Eve froze as she stared at the gaping wound on the back of the woman’s
head, at the dried blood matting the hair, soaking the blouse.
“Hold on. Just—” Eve reached out, and her hand passed through the
woman’s arm. “Jesus God.”
“It was Rennie.” Sniffling, she pushed the heels of her hands through the
tears.
“What are you? What is this?”
“I don’t know, but I have to tell
somebody
. It was Rennie,” she repeated.
“The bastard. He was mad at me ‘cause I helped Sara get away from him. He
must’ve followed me from work, and when I was in the park, he was just there.
And he yelled and he hit me. He kept hitting me, and I couldn’t get away.
Nobody came to help. Nobody saw, and he hit me and hit me, and I fell. And he
picked up a rock and he killed me. It’s not right. What am I going to do now?
I’m scared to be here. I’m scared to be dead.”
Eve couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe. “This has to stop.”
“Rennie killed me.”
The woman—the hallucination—held out her hands. Tore them up, Eve
thought in some cold part of her brain. Tore them up when she fell, when she
tried to crawl away.
“He killed me, and now I won’t ever get married or eat ice cream or buy
new shoes and have drinks with Sara. Rennie Foster killed me with a rock in
Riverside Park, and maybe he’ll kill Sara next. What’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know.”
“Aren’t I supposed to go somewhere? I don’t want to stay here. It’s cold
here. It’s too cold and it’s too bright. Can you help me? I’m Janna, Janna
Dorchester, and I didn’t do anything wrong. Is this hell?”
“No.” But she wasn’t entirely sure.
Maybe hell was cold and bright. Maybe hell was losing your mind.
“Eve.” Roarke dropped down beside her, took her arms. “Christ, you’re
burning up. Come on now.”
He started to lift her, but she resisted. “No. Wait.” She sucked in a breath,
shuddered it out. “You don’t see her?”
He pressed a hand to her forehead. “I see you, sitting on the floor of the
morgue looking like a ghost.”
“At one,” she murmured.
“I guess he can’t see me because I’m dead and everything,” Janna said. “Why
do you?”
“I don’t know. I need Morris,” she told Roarke. “And God, I need
something to drink.”
“Don’t leave me,” Janna begged, dropping her head again so Eve could see
the ugly wound that killed her. “Please don’t leave me here alone.”
“I’m just going to sit here. Bring Morris, will you? I just… need to sit
here.” Deal, she ordered herself. Deal with what’s in front of you, then figure
out the rest. “Could really use something cold to drink.”
Roarke rose, cursing under his breath as he ordered a tube of Pepsi.
“He’s gorgeous.” Janna smiled a little even as she knuckled at tears. “Mega
frosted. Is he your boyfriend?”
“We’re married,” Eve murmured.
“Seriously icy for you,” Janna said as Roarke glanced down.
“So we are,” he said. “And I’ll be taking my wife to a doctor in short order.
I’ll get you Morris first, but then you’re done here.”
“He’s got a really sexy voice, too.” Janna
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