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Wait!
Did she hear something? A whirring sound?
Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive before she saw the bicyclist round the corner, reflective spokes whirling in the incandescence from the streetlamp, headlamp glowing like a demon’s eye. She relaxed a little. The bicycle whipped past, illuminating the street in an eerie light and offering a quick glimpse to the alley across the street, where a dark figure appeared, only to blend into the night in a nanosecond.
What?
Had she really seen someone in that split second, a person dressed in a long black robe?
A priest’s cassock?
Her heart stopped.
She took a step backward.
Blinked.
The person, if indeed it had been someone, was gone. Vanished. Darkness enclosed the alley again.
She swallowed. Searched the gloom. Saw nothing. Not the hint of movement. Nor did she hear the hasty retreat of footsteps, just the cool sough of the wind rattling brittle branches of surrounding trees and the faraway hum of traffic. But her throat was dry, goose pimples crawling up the backs of her arms. “Come on,” she whispered to the dog, her voice tight. When he didn’t budge, she gave a quick tug on the leash and he followed reluctantly.
Once inside, she threw the dead bolt, then disarmed the security system so that it was no longer in the “away” mode, but still would alert her if anyone tried to enter through a door or window.
“It’s your imagination. That’s all. You just freaked yourself out,” she told herself, but double-checked the windows, doors, and closets, even under the bed.
She might have convinced herself except for the dog. Dave was still on edge, running into the living room window to press his nose between the blinds. She snapped them shut more tightly, unhooked his leash, then walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water.
It was nothing!
But her heart was still pounding as she hung the leash on its hook near the back door and felt suddenly alone. She even thought for half a second about calling Jay before reality set in.
“This is all such bullshit,” she said, her voice cracking.
Tentatively, the kitten peered out from behind the couch. “There you are.” Picking up Lenore and carrying her into the bedroom, Kristi flopped on the bed and reached for the remote to turn on the TV. As the screen came to life, she opened the drawer of her night table, pulled out the claw hammer, and tucked it under her pillow.
Just in case.
* * *
The dog is a problem.
As I run through the darkened streets, I realize I should have taken that mutt out when I’d had the chance, but he’d been too fast, gotten away from me, and I had work to do and it had to be done quickly. I thought he might be lost forever as he took off like a shot and I couldn’t risk chasing him down, or being seen. Besides I had work to do in the house.
But I’d been wrong.
And tonight, that damned cur had caught scent of me hiding in the shadows, had alerted her that I was there.
A stupid, stupid mistake.
I could have been caught and all the years of planning, the anxious nights, the second-guessing myself, and finally the attack at St. Louis Cathedral would be for naught.
I take the time to remove my cassock and stuff it into the case. Slowly I let out my breath.
Still I’m sweating, my breath coming in short bursts, but as I cross St. Charles Avenue, I slow, gather my wits, and make the sign of the cross over my frantically beating heart.
I can’t afford to mess this up.
Too much is at stake.
