“Not important?” she returned with a hint of attitude. “Do you know how much a pair of pantyhose costs?”
I was losing control. She was drifting in her own direction and it was completely opposite of the way we needed to go. In the ethereal world I inched myself closer to her, struggling to tighten our bond but still keep enough distance so as to remain an observer only. It was a dangerous dance, and I wasn’t exactly known for my grace.
A voice sounded at my back. It was painfully familiar, and it didn’t belong here. “Salt, Rowan? Get real. It’s only evil that can’t cross a salt line. Now I ask you, do I look evil?”
My otherworldly self spun quickly and came face to face with Debbie Schaeffer.
“Dead I am, dead I am,” she chanted, our faces only inches apart. “I do not like that dead I am!”
I bolstered my defenses and like an underwater swimmer who was running out of breath, aimed myself toward the surface. It was too late. I felt a dainty pair of hands slam open-palmed into my chest and give me a shove. On that distant plane the dance was over. I stumbled backwards, bereft of balance. Unfortunately, Heather Burke broke my fall.
On impact, there was a burst of blinding light, searing deep into my brain, and I let out a silent scream.
When sight returned, all color had fled and I was left in a world of halftone greys.
When sensation and feeling returned I was devoid of warmth and chilled to the bone.
When clarity of thought returned I was in the middle of a gender dysphoric identity crisis.
CHAPTER 22
I am reaching for my keys while kneeling next to the car. A cold breeze whips across the parking lot and finds its way under my skirt. Guess I should have brought a coat, but it was 64 when I left for work this morning! This weather is just insane. December and it still can’t make up its mind if it is going to be warm or cold. Should have paid more attention to the forecast I suppose. Well, it’s not like I have that far to walk. If I can just get these damn keys!
Another gust angles around the car and sends a chill down my back. I’ll check the weather channel when I get settled. If it is going to stay cold I guess maybe I’ll wear slacks tomorrow… Or my tartan wool skirt, maybe. Wait a minute; did I pick it up at the cleaners? Hmmmm, I’ll have to check. I can’t remember.
I can smell the lingering exhaust and petroleum fumes from the vehicle. I cough as another gust of wind pushes the foul gases up into my face. I can feel the heat of the noisily cooling exhaust system as it seeps down toward the hand that is groping for the keys.
Where the hell are they?
I scoot around, balancing on the balls of my feet and stretching my arm beneath the vehicle at an awkward angle. It’s too dark for me to see under the car, and I wonder if I have a flashlight in the glove box. Then I remember that I do, but the batteries are dead.
The wind dies for a moment, and I hear something that sounds like footsteps. My heart thuds in my chest as I jump, startled, and I lose my balance. My knee brushes against the rough asphalt, and I literally feel the tear happen.
I look around and see nothing. I must have imagined the noise. Great! So now I’m hearing things. I take a moment to inspect my knee. Dammit! This was my last good pair of hose. Well, at least I’m not bleeding, but there’s no saving the stockings. They’re shot, and I’m not going back out to the store tonight. That settles it for sure. Slacks tomorrow.
I send my hand in search of the keys once more. I can get a better angle now because I don’t have to worry about ruining my pantyhose anymore. My fingers touch something and I hear a jingle. I stretch my arm a bit farther and slowly move my hand from side to side.
My fingers touch something cold, and I hook them around the keys, then I pull them out. Standing up I lock the car door and close it. God, it’s been a long day. I just want to get inside, kick off my shoes, look at the television for a while, and then go to bed. I look at my watch-6:45. Traffic was horrible. But then, it always is around the holidays.
My heels make rapid, purposeful clicks against the surface of the parking lot. I hurry through the shadows and glance quickly around in the few small swaths of light. I’m still a bit jumpy. I don’t know why because the noise was all in my imagination. Wasn’t it? I glance about once again, and I twist the keyring in my hand, allowing the points of the keys to protrude between my fingers as I clench my fist.
It is way too dark out here. And with the parking lot on the backside of the building it is too isolated. I don’t like it. Damn superintendent still hasn’t done anything about the lights. Over half of them have been burned out for six months now. During the summer it wasn’t that bad, but it gets dark earlier now. I’d better call and complain again tomorrow.
Hmmph, like it will do any good. It hasn’t yet.
Oh well, just another hundred feet and I’ll be inside. Out of the dark and into the warmth. This next part is the worst. All of the lights are burned out here. And then there’s the overgrown evergreen bushes and the angry shadows they make. I aim myself at the distant door and hasten my steps.
Dammit, Heather! Get a grip girl. You’ll be inside soon. You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing. This is a safe neighborhood. Chill out.
Seventy-five feet left to go. Why is my heart racing? I’m not usually this skittish. The clicking sound below me is coming faster now.
What was that?!
This time I KNOW there was a noise!
I stop dead in my tracks. The footsteps behind me make a soft thud, halting just enough out of time with my own to strike fear into the pit of my stomach. Stupid! Stupid, Heather! What the hell did you stop for?! If someone is coming after you what are you going to do? Just stand here and wait for him?
The footsteps behind me begin again, and I glance over my shoulder only to see a shadowy figure moving toward me.
Oh my God! This can’t really be happening!
I begin to sprint without any thought. I instantly understand how those women in the horror flicks manage to run in high heels. They’re just too scared to know better, that’s all.
My shoes are click-clacking rapidly against the pavement now; my heart is firmly entrenched in my throat, blocking all attempts to scream. Panic has stolen my breath. I’ve never been this frightened before.
Fifty feet, I’m almost there. I can hear him back there, running, getting closer. He’s not even trying to conceal himself any longer.
I can feel hot breath against my neck.
I can smell stale cigarette smoke and bad breath.
The sour reek of B.O.
Something hits me hard in the side, and I stumble into the tendril-like branches of the evergreen. What little wind I have left is forced from my lungs, and I struggle to disentangle myself.
He grabs me and I flail wildly. I fall into him and we both crash to the ground with me on top. He is clawing at me, trying to maintain his hold. I kick and twist away, slipping out of my blazer, and crawl quickly as I try to stand. Scrabbling across the sidewalk I fight to regain my footing.
I open my mouth to scream, but nothing more than a choked whimper comes out.
A hand wraps around my ankle, and I kick hard with my other foot. I twist onto my back and kick again, aiming my heel for the ski mask staring back at me. I miss and my shoe goes flying.
I roll frantically and manage to pull away again then drag myself upward. I start to run but trip over my remaining shoe. The time it takes me to kick it off and begin to run again is all the time he needs.
My blouse has become untucked in the struggle, and it is riding up as I try to regain my balance. Something cold presses hard against the bare skin at my waistline.
I hear a quick electric snap, like a light bulb blowing out.
My teeth clench hard and I freeze in place, every nerve scrambled into a tangled rat’s nest of jittery
