except when something disturbing came up to trigger a new series.
These would undoubtedly peter out, just like the old ones. Until that happened, she would just have to live with them.
She preferred the old nightmares. Those had pretty much been replays of the real event, lacking the weird variations present in the recent dreams. And in those, she’d been an observer, not a participant. Now, it seemed that Melvin’s perverse stunt was directed at her.
All my fault, she thought. I shouldn’t have stopped at his place for gas.
Vicki sighed. So much for enjoying a few extra minutes snuggling in bed. She reached out, shut off the snooze alarm in time to prevent it from blaring, and got up.
She made her way through the darkness to the bathroom. After using the toilet, she returned to her bedroom and put on the running clothes that she had arranged on the chair the night before. She slipped a thin chain over her head. It held the apartment key and a police whistle. She dropped them down the front of her T-shirt.
The corridor outside her rooms was dimly lighted. She walked silently, and pressed a hand against her chest to stop the jangling of the key and whistle.
She didn’t like this corridor. Not late at night, and not at 5:00 in the morning.
It gave her the creeps.
All corridors gave her the creeps when she was by herself in a quiet building. You name it, she thought: school, dormitory, hospital, office building, apartment house. Just something about a deserted hallway when everybody else is either gone or asleep—or supposed to be.
A feeling that, if you make any noise, someone might just throw open a door and jump out at you.
This particular corridor was L-shaped so Vicki had to step around a corner before reaching the lobby and front entrance. She didn’t much care for that corner.
But she stepped around it without hesitating.
The landlord’s door was open.
Oh, great.
She cast a glance as she walked by, and sucked in a quick breath. Dexter Pollock was standing motionless just inside the doorway, wearing a bathrobe, bare-legged, staring out at her. She twisted her mouth into a smile of greeting, muttered “Hi,” and kept walking.
“Word with you,” Dexter said.
Dandy.
He didn’t come out of the doorway, so she had to go back to him. He stood there with his hands tucked into the pockets of his robe. His legs looked very pale in the faint light. He was a big man, well over sixty now and gone to fat, but when Vicki had been a girl he was chief of the Ellsworth Police Department, and she suspected that he still had the soul of a tyrant. She could kill Ace for choosing an apartment building that was owned by this man.
She leaned against the far wall of the corridor to keep the maximum distance from him, and crossed her ankles. He was known to be a lech. She was very aware of her bare legs—and his. She supposed he was probably naked under the robe.
“Early in the day to be going out,” he said.
“I suppose it is.”
“Still dark out there.”
“It’s almost dawn.”
“You’re a good-looking young woman.”
She didn’t say anything. His words made her feel squirmy inside.
“Didn’t your folks ever caution you about going out alone in the dark?”
“Sure they did.”
“I know they did. Your folks are fine people.”
“Thanks.”
“You think they’d approve, you going out at this hour and dressed in your skimpies?”
“I do it when I visit them. They don’t seem to mind.” Then she added, “I’m dressed fine,” though she wished at the moment that she was wearing her warmups instead of the T-shirt and flimsy shorts.
Dexter’s eyes were pale blurs, but Vicki saw his head lower and rise as he inspected her. “You’re a rape,” he said, “looking for a place to happen.”
“I have to get going,” she told him, hating the weak sound of her voice. You oughta tell him to shove it, she thought. She pushed herself off the wall and turned away from him.
“I’m still
These would undoubtedly peter out, just like the old ones. Until that happened, she would just have to live with them.
She preferred the old nightmares. Those had pretty much been replays of the real event, lacking the weird variations present in the recent dreams. And in those, she’d been an observer, not a participant. Now, it seemed that Melvin’s perverse stunt was directed at her.
All my fault, she thought. I shouldn’t have stopped at his place for gas.
Vicki sighed. So much for enjoying a few extra minutes snuggling in bed. She reached out, shut off the snooze alarm in time to prevent it from blaring, and got up.
She made her way through the darkness to the bathroom. After using the toilet, she returned to her bedroom and put on the running clothes that she had arranged on the chair the night before. She slipped a thin chain over her head. It held the apartment key and a police whistle. She dropped them down the front of her T-shirt.
The corridor outside her rooms was dimly lighted. She walked silently, and pressed a hand against her chest to stop the jangling of the key and whistle.
She didn’t like this corridor. Not late at night, and not at 5:00 in the morning.
It gave her the creeps.
All corridors gave her the creeps when she was by herself in a quiet building. You name it, she thought: school, dormitory, hospital, office building, apartment house. Just something about a deserted hallway when everybody else is either gone or asleep—or supposed to be.
A feeling that, if you make any noise, someone might just throw open a door and jump out at you.
This particular corridor was L-shaped so Vicki had to step around a corner before reaching the lobby and front entrance. She didn’t much care for that corner.
But she stepped around it without hesitating.
The landlord’s door was open.
Oh, great.
She cast a glance as she walked by, and sucked in a quick breath. Dexter Pollock was standing motionless just inside the doorway, wearing a bathrobe, bare-legged, staring out at her. She twisted her mouth into a smile of greeting, muttered “Hi,” and kept walking.
“Word with you,” Dexter said.
Dandy.
He didn’t come out of the doorway, so she had to go back to him. He stood there with his hands tucked into the pockets of his robe. His legs looked very pale in the faint light. He was a big man, well over sixty now and gone to fat, but when Vicki had been a girl he was chief of the Ellsworth Police Department, and she suspected that he still had the soul of a tyrant. She could kill Ace for choosing an apartment building that was owned by this man.
She leaned against the far wall of the corridor to keep the maximum distance from him, and crossed her ankles. He was known to be a lech. She was very aware of her bare legs—and his. She supposed he was probably naked under the robe.
“Early in the day to be going out,” he said.
“I suppose it is.”
“Still dark out there.”
“It’s almost dawn.”
“You’re a good-looking young woman.”
She didn’t say anything. His words made her feel squirmy inside.
“Didn’t your folks ever caution you about going out alone in the dark?”
“Sure they did.”
“I know they did. Your folks are fine people.”
“Thanks.”
“You think they’d approve, you going out at this hour and dressed in your skimpies?”
“I do it when I visit them. They don’t seem to mind.” Then she added, “I’m dressed fine,” though she wished at the moment that she was wearing her warmups instead of the T-shirt and flimsy shorts.
Dexter’s eyes were pale blurs, but Vicki saw his head lower and rise as he inspected her. “You’re a rape,” he said, “looking for a place to happen.”
“I have to get going,” she told him, hating the weak sound of her voice. You oughta tell him to shove it, she thought. She pushed herself off the wall and turned away from him.
“I’m still
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