AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I text back.
No worries. Wilson and I are best buds. See you in the morning.
As much as I’m looking forward to seeing Brynn, I don’t mind turning in early. That is, after I wash up and avail myself of her leftovers.
I give Wilson a few more head scratches to solidify our new bond, then wander down the hall, vaguely recalling Brynn’s description of where I’d find the guest bedroom.
It’s technically her office, as denoted by the sleek, modern-style desk beneath the large window, but there’s also a cozy daybed and a sumptuous-looking armchair tucked into a reading nook of sorts. The decor consists mostly of monochromatic neutrals with a few pops of rose-petal pink, and I couldn’t have asked for a more pleasant space, even if I’d designed it myself.
After I dig a pair of pajamas out of my suitcase, I meander back down the hall in search of the guest bathroom.
Like everything else in Brynn’s apartment, it’s surprisingly spacious. And rather than a tub-and-shower combo with questionably colored grout—like the one in my bathroom—this is one of those walk-in designs with solid slate tile walls.
There’s a stack of folded towels on a sleek metal rack, and I grab the one on top. It’s as thick and plush as any you’d find at a five-star spa, and I unabashedly rub my cheek against the fluffy fabric, inhaling the distinct lavender scent.
My first night in New York might have gotten off to a rocky start, but it’s slowly looking brighter.
Towel in hand, I step through the narrow opening and peel off my damp boots and clothes, placing them—and the cloudlike towel—on the teak bench at the back of the shower so they don’t create a pool of water on the bathroom floor. The recessed lights in the ceiling cast a soft, soothing glow, and I can already feel some of the tension draining from my stiff muscles.
That is, until I spot the dozen or more showerheads protruding from all angles, including directly overhead.Yeesh. I might need an engineering degree just to figure out how to turn them all on.
As I’m analyzing which lever goes to which showerhead, the bathroom door creaks open.
My pulse spikes, then skitters to a halt.
I’m positive I closed the door behind me. I even remember hearing the latch click into place. Unless Wilson knows how to turn a door handle…
Fear creeps up my neck, and I shiver.
Brynn is still at work, so who could it be?
CHAPTERTHREE
Isnatch the towel off the bench and wrap it around myself. When CSI finds my body, at least I won’t be in my birthday suit.
Biting my lip, I suppress a whimper as the prowler’s heavy soles plod across the bathroom floor.
Is it possible I narrowly escaped Wilson’s bone-crunching mandibles only to wind up like Janet Leigh’s iconic character in Hitchcock’sPsycho?
I’ve heard about New York’s horrific crime rates, but I didn’t think I’d become one of the statistics… especially on my first night!
Good grief. I’m so terrified, my thoughts are rambling.
Focus, Quincy. There’s still a chance it’s merely a burglar and he—or she—doesn’t even know you’re here.
Although, it begs the question… how did they get past Wilson? I say a silent prayer he’s unharmed. Maybe they tossed him a large steak to distract him?
The toilet seat clinks against the porcelain tank, and I jump in fright.
Is the… is the burglar using the bathroom?
I suppose even criminals have to go sometime. But here? Now?
This can’t be happening.
For some reason, I close my eyes and cover my ears. Maybe it’s from years of deeply ingrained propriety. Or perhaps I simply don’t want the last sounds I hear before my demise to be a stranger’s bodily functions. Either way, I inch backward, putting as much distance as possible between myself and the intruder. But as I quietly shuffle my feet, I bump one of the knobs and ice-cold water rains down on my head.
Before I can stop myself, I let out a yelp.
