Frowning, Hannah shook her head. “I can’t say any more about it.”
Britt stared at her for a moment; then she shrugged. “Well, I’ve had a few run-ins with the law too, Han. You’re in good company.” She nudged her. “Hey, speaking of company, how about if I stay over tonight?”
Hannah managed a smile. “Oh, that’s not necessary, Britt. I appreciate the offer—”
“To tell you the truth,” Britt interrupted, wincing a bit. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You’d be doing me a favor, Han. Y’know, like the last time when Webb was being a shit-heel, and you let me stay over? I really don’t want to go back home to him tonight. Do you mind?”
Actually, Hannah didn’t mind at all. She’d sheltered Britt a few times in the past when Webb was on the warpath. She sympathized. She’d been down that road herself. Tonight, she welcomed the company. Britt didn’t offer a lot of protection, but there was safety in numbers. Hannah had warned her friend to be careful on the way over.
She was changing a pillowcase from one of her bed pillows, when someone knocked on the front door. She wondered how Britt had gotten past the lobby’s security entrance downstairs.
Hannah checked the peephole before opening the door. She saw a man, tall with broad shoulders. She couldn’t quite make out who he was until he stepped back under the outside light.
“Scott?” She pulled the door open. “What are you doing here?”
“Britt sent me,” he said. He was holding a backpack. “Something came up with her loser-of-a-boyfriend. They were fighting, but now they’ve kissed and made up or something. She said you might need someone to spend the night. Are you going to ask me in, or what?”
Dumbfounded, Hannah stepped aside and opened the door wider. “I really don’t need anyone staying with me—”
“Oh, relax, I’m here,” Scott said. “I can crash on the sofa. I brought along
He set his backpack on her counter. “Britt said you have a stalker, some kind of weirdo sending you videotapes.”
“She told you?” Hannah asked,
He nodded. “She said you were in trouble with the cops, too.”
“What?” Hannah murmured incredulous. “I swore her to secrecy.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Oh, Britt’s the worst. I thought you knew that. Telephone, telegraph, tell-a-Britt. She sang to me the minute you left work tonight. Anyway, don’t worry about me. I can keep a secret.”
Hannah gave him a wary look. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m in trouble with the police?”
“Do you want to tell me?” he asked pointedly.
Hannah frowned. “No, not really.”
“Fine. It’s none of my goddamn business. I won’t ask. But if you—”
There was a knock at the door. Hannah and Scott looked at each other. “Were you expecting someone else?” he whispered.
Hannah shook her head. She went to the door and checked the peek hole. It was Craig. She was suddenly very grateful for Scott’s company. She opened the door.
Craig stared past her shoulder at Scott; then he looked at her again. “Hi. I know it’s late,” he said, smiling awkwardly. “I would’ve called first, but you never gave me your number.”
“How did you get past the lobby door?” Hannah asked.
“It was open,” Craig said.
“It was open when I came in, too,” Scott volunteered. “But I closed it.” He extended his hand to Craig. “Hi, I’m Scott. I work with Hannah.”
Craig shook his hand. “Hi, yeah. I recognize you from the store.”
Hannah cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I can’t invite you in. Scott and I are in the middle of something.”
“Well, could I talk to you for just a couple of minutes?” Craig asked. “Maybe out here on the balcony?”
Hannah gave Scott a look over her shoulder. She put the door on the latch and stepped outside.
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Craig said, leaning against the walkway balcony’s railing. “It’s just, I had to see you and talk to you; otherwise I couldn’t hope for any kind of sleep tonight. I keep thinking about our lunch date today. Did I do anything to upset you?”
“Actually, I was upset about something else.”
“And it had nothing to do with me?”
Hannah rubbed her arms from the chill. “It may have,” she admitted. “That man you threw out of the store, he was murdered yesterday.”
Craig appeared genuinely stunned. “What?”
Hannah nodded. “Somebody shot him. I read about it in the newspaper at lunch today, while you were using the rest room.”
Craig frowned at her. “Do you think I had something to do with it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Hannah, I didn’t even know the guy. The last time I saw him was when I tossed him out of the store. You say somebody shot him?”
“Yes. He was shot in the eye.” She shivered a bit, and rubbed her arms harder. “Craig, how did you find out where I live?”
He seemed stumped for a moment. He stared back at her, then shrugged. “Hannah, I—I’m just trying to help you, for chrissakes.”
“You’ve been following me around,
“God, no. It’s not like that at all—”
“How did you get past the door downstairs?” she asked. “Have you done it before?”
“What kind of question is that? Hannah—”
Staring at him, she backed toward the door. “I think you’d better go now.” She opened the door.
“Oh, c’mon, please. Don’t be this way.”
Scott came up behind Hannah. “Everything okay here?” he asked.
“Craig’s just leaving,” she said.
“Hannah, you’re wrong about me,” Craig said, frowning. He shook his head, then turned and stomped toward the stairwell.
“Funny, he’s not so good-looking to me anymore,” Scott said, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Plus, he’s wearing sandals with black stretch socks. What was he thinking?”
Hannah stepped toward the railing and glanced down at the sidewalk and the parking lot below.
“Think he’s your stalker?” Scott asked.
Hannah shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure of anything anymore.” She watched Craig, three stories below, walking away from her building.
“I’ll bet he saw me coming up here,” she heard Scott say. “He probably wanted to check out the competition.”
“Maybe,” Hannah muttered. She saw Craig head into the parking lot, which was reserved for tenants only. She noticed an old white car that she’d never seen in the lot before: a big, sleek, metal monster of an automobile from the mid-sixties.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
Craig walked in front of the car. Its headlights suddenly went on; high beams. Craig seemed to freeze.
“No!” Hannah cried, grabbing Scott’s arm.
Helplessly, she watched the big car lunge forward. With tires screeching, it plowed into Craig. He seemed to fold over the hood. The car didn’t slow down at all. Carrying Craig’s prone body on its nose, the old automobile barreled into the back of a minivan parked in the lot. Hannah turned away and buried her head in Scott’s shoulder.
“Holy Jesus,” she heard Scott murmur, over the smashing glass and twisting steel. A car alarm went off, blaring in the night. Tires squealed, and the old car’s motor roared once more. There was another loud crash.
Hannah pulled herself away, but still held on to her friend as she peered down at the parking lot. She could see Craig Tollman’s crumpled, broken body on the pavement. He was lying in a pool of blood that looked black in the
