“Just the same, I don’t trust him,” Ben argued, pushing his plate away. “He’s suddenly taking this job where he’ll be working beside you all day. That bugs me.”
Hannah figured maybe Ben was a little jealous—or just protective. Either way, she kind of liked it.
They had another faux “family night.” After the candlelit dinner, he read a story to Guy, who was crazy for him. When she and Ben were alone together again, he told her what had happened with his wife.
At around the time Rae Palmer’s e-mails to Ben were reporting the first murder, he got a call from a Mrs. Lyle Seidell. Her husband had just dropped dead of a heart attack, and did Ben know that Lyle had been screwing a certain Mrs. Jennifer Podowski for the last three months?
While his wife was grieving for her dead lover, Ben kept hearing from Rae, who begged him to come to Seattle. Ben decided to leave Jennifer alone with her grief. Every tear she shed was a jab to his heart. At the time, his friend seemed more worth rescuing than his marriage.
As far as Hannah was concerned, this Jennifer sounded like a jerk. But she tried to remain quietly impartial as Ben told his story. Besides, once he found Rae’s killer, he planned to go back to Jennifer and work things out.
In the meantime, Hannah was playing house with Ben Podowski. All through the evening she’d had to keep fighting her attraction to him. Lying there, alone in bed, she told herself that she couldn’t afford to get involved. She was leaving Seattle herself—very soon.
Small wonder she couldn’t sleep.
She wanted a glass of water. Or maybe that was just an excuse, giving herself permission to walk through the living room and check on him. Still, she was thirsty.
Hannah threw back the covers, climbed out of bed, and donned her robe. She felt butterflies in her stomach. The truth was, she wanted something to happen.
Unconsciously fussing with her hair, she tiptoed down the hallway to the living room. She peered around the corner. The couch had been vacated. The sheets were still in a tangle across the sofa cushion. She reached for the end-table lamp; then she looked toward the window and froze.
Ben stood against the wall, by the edge of the curtains. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of jeans he must have put on hastily. The front snap was still open. He shook his head at her, then put a finger to his lips.
Hannah didn’t understand at first. Then she saw the silhouette on the other side of the curtains. At the half inch where the drapes didn’t quite meet, someone was trying to peek inside.
Hannah gasped and accidentally knocked over the lamp. It fell to the floor with a crash.
The figure outside reeled back from the window, then raced toward the stairwell.
Ben headed out after him. “Stay inside,” he told Hannah. “Lock the door.” He ran down the balcony walkway, and ducked into the stairwell.
Hannah watched him from the doorway. Then she retreated inside, closed the door, and locked it. Stepping over the broken lamp, she hurried down the hall and checked in on Guy. Miraculously, he was still asleep.
Hannah went back to the living room and opened the curtains. She watched and waited for Ben. With every passing minute, she grew more and more anxious. She couldn’t help thinking that Ben had been set up, lured outside for his execution. But she would have gotten a video first, a coming attraction for Ben’s death. Then again, maybe all bets were off, now that their last attempt on his life had failed.
Hannah cleaned up the broken lamp, hoping the time would go by faster. It occurred to her that while she was inside waiting for him, Ben could be hurt. She pictured him lying in a pool of blood at the bottom of those cement stairs. She struggled with the idea of going out there and looking for him. But she didn’t dare leave Guy alone.
Suddenly, she heard a soft tapping on the door. Hannah glanced out the window. To her utter relief, it was Ben. She flung open the door.
“I lost him,” Ben announced, out of breath.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He nodded.
Hannah embraced him, almost collapsing in his arms. She touched his hairy chest, and felt his heart pounding. Her heart was racing, too.
Ben stoked her hair, then stepped back. “I didn’t get a good look at the guy,” he said. “I was trying to catch a glimpse of him when you came in.”
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I screwed it up, knocking over the damn lamp.”
Ben locked the door again. “He must have used the second floor and taken the back stairs down. I searched everywhere—including the basement. I think he’s gone.”
Hannah stood near the door. She touched his arm. She was still trembling. “Well, can I—get you anything?”
“No, I’m okay,” he said, scratching his head. “I don’t think I’ll fall asleep again right away, but I might as well give it a try.”
“Ben…” She hesitated.
“Maybe you ought to try getting some sleep yourself,” he suggested. He closed the curtains. “You have work in the morning. I’ll be okay out here. You shouldn’t stay up. That guy’s not coming back.” He tried to smile at her. “Nothing more is going to happen tonight, Hannah.”
She sighed. “You’re right. Nothing is going to happen.”
Hannah started back toward her bedroom. She never did get her glass of water.
Sixteen
It was nine-twenty, and only a handful of students still lingered around the third-floor lounge area. The windows on one side had a sweeping view of the Seattle skyline, brightly lit against the cloudy night. Most of the classes were out, and the hallways seemed deserted. Paul Gulletti’s Monday evening class had ended at seven- thirty. But he was still in his office—just down the hall.
The alcove where Hannah and Ben were hiding couldn’t be seen from the hallway. It was tucked behind a corner, partially concealed by the lounge’s vending machines and pay phones. The little niche had room for only a couple of sofa-chairs. Hannah sat in one while Ben stood guard. He peered around the corner, past the vending machines and down the hallway.
For the last two hours, they’d been waiting. Ben had stolen a master key from one the janitors. He’d told her about his discovery of a maintenance-crew lounge and locker room in the basement. This morning, he’d followed one of the night crew janitors down there, then “borrowed” his key ring while he was in the shower. A green plastic doodad around the base of one key set it apart from all the others on the ring. Ben had figured it must be the master. He’d tested it on a few basement doors and it had worked. Ben replaced the key ring before the janitor had finished his shower. Later, the key got him into every office and classroom he’d tried. Ben figured the custodian probably wouldn’t realize his master key was missing until tomorrow.
“You’re pretty good at following people around, aren’t you?” Hannah had said when he’d told her about stealing the key. “I certainly had no idea when you were watching me.”
She was a bit irritated with him today. This morning, they’d been eating breakfast together when Joyce had shown up. She pulled Hannah aside. “Wow. He sure is cute,” she whispered. “You hold onto him.”
But holding onto him was impossible. Hannah had gone off to work feeling horribly depressed. And it wasn’t just Ben either. It was everything. She couldn’t stop thinking about Britt, and what she might have done to prevent her death. She hated leaving Guy’s side while he was sick—and while this maniac was out there. Hell, she hated constantly looking over her shoulder. And as much as she had to, she dreaded having to run away again, starting
