“You remind me of him, you know?” Lucinda’s voice was gentle. Thoughtful. “Every time I see your smile, I think of him. It’s nice to know he lives on in his children.”
She meant it as a compliment, so Hena did her best not to shiver.
—
Inside Lulu’s suite, Hena flipped on the foyer light. Thunder growled outside—low and guttural. It rattled the windows.
The wedding cake sat untouched on the island, exactly where it had been left that morning, though it was starting to lean. As she walked past it, her eyes landed on the counternext to the fridge. Dozens of translucent orange bottles were lined up neatly along the back wall. A miniature pharmacy.
A heavy ache pressed against her. She had known her mother was on a host of medications, but this many? There was medication for constipation. For diarrhea. For sleep. For pain. So many different pain medications. She picked them up, one by one, reading each label, as thunder boomed outside.
At last, she found the correct one. She crossed over to the fridge, her hand closing around the handle.
Suddenly, a low buzz filled the air, and she was plunged into darkness.
A power outage. Given the storm, it wasn’t shocking. Buther mother had mentioned generators. Why hadn’t they kicked in?
Hena reached instinctively for her phone to turn on the flashlight—only to remember she had left her purse at the wedding hall. With the curtains drawn and the dark clouds outside, the room was pitch-black. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face.
She opened the refrigerator and ran her fingers along the shelves until they touched a smooth plastic bottle. She grabbed it, hoping it was the right one, and shut the door.
Then she heard it.
A creak. Long and slow.
“Gita?” she called out tentatively.
No reply.
So not Gita. Probably the wind. The building settling against the storm.
She took a cautious step toward the exit—
Another creak. Higher pitched.
Her pulse quickened. She wasn’t afraid of the dark. There was no one else here. Therecouldn’tbe. But this moment mirrored another. From three years ago.
Her hands fumbled along the wall. Her heart pounded.
Another sound. This time nearer. This time not a creak.
Footsteps.
Blood rushed to her head. She pressed her back against the fridge. Fear prickled the base of her neck. She couldn’t see anything, but there was no talking herself down. Sheknew, as certainly as she knew her own name, she was not alone.
“Stay back,” she demanded, trying to sound commanding despite the unmistakable quiver in her voice.
Silence.
Then another step. Closing in.
Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. This would not go like last time. She would not wait like a sitting duck until it was too late.
She had to go.
Now.
She lunged forward, fleeing for the door. Her hip slammed into the island. Something crashed to the floor with a sickening thud.
