Kevin O'Brien Bundle (107 page)

Hannah stepped back to the curb. She hadn’t realized she was crossing against the traffic signal. She caught her breath and waited for the “Walk” signal. Her face felt hot. People were staring at her.

The traffic light changed, and Hannah hurried across to the mall. At the phone stations, she dug some change out of her purse, then checked the newspaper again. At the bottom of the article was a blurb about the reporter:
David Serum can be reached at [email protected] or 206/555-0405.

Hannah dialed the number, then counted two ring tones.

“This is David Serum,” he answered. Rock music from the Old Navy next door competed with him. Hannah had to cover her other ear.

“Yes, I have a question about your article today, about that murder in Madronna.”

“Can I get your name, please?”

“I just have a question,” she said. “I need to know if he was shot in the eye.”

“Um, I have to get your name, ma’am.”

“Answer my question, and I’ll tell you my name. Please, it’s important.”

She didn’t hear anything on the other end of the line.

“Are you still there?” Hannah asked.

“Yes, ma’am, but that information is not—”

“Please, tell me. Was he shot in the eye?”

“Yes, Mr. Hall was shot through the left eye. Now, if you could—”

Hannah quickly hung up.

She thought she was going to be sick. She wove through the crowd of shoppers in the mall, and hurried into the women’s rest room.

It was empty. Hannah ducked into the last stall. Bracing herself against the divider wall, she took several deep breaths until her stomach felt a little better.

She kept wondering why this was happening to her. These two people were murdered, and someone was telling her in advance how they would die. But why were they killed? Because they’d been rude to her?

Hannah felt another wave of nausea. Tears welled in her eyes.

Someone else stepped into the rest room. Hannah reached over and closed her stall door. She heard footsteps on the tiled floor. For a moment, she didn’t move. Hannah wiped her eyes with some toilet paper, and took a few more deep breaths. She flushed the toilet paper down the john, then opened the stall door.

The stall next to hers was empty. There was nobody by the sinks, either. She could have sworn someone was in the bathroom with her a minute ago.

Hannah glanced over toward the sinks again and noticed a small black rectangular box on the edge of the counter.

It was a videocassette.

Hannah hurried out of the women’s room with the video in her hand. Slowing down, she passed several shoppers in the mall: a pack of teenage girls, some women with their children, an elderly couple. She was searching for a man alone; maybe someone from the store or her film class, maybe a total stranger.

She knew he couldn’t be far. He’d been in the bathroom less than a minute ago. He was probably still watching her right now. She kept wondering why he was doing this to her. Did he somehow know that she couldn’t go to the police?

Hannah spotted a man with a sweatshirt, jeans, and curly gray hair. He stood near the food court entrance and stared back at her. He smirked a little, then shoved his hands in his pockets.

She froze. The familiar, almost lecherous way he grinned seemed to invite some kind of encounter—or confrontation. Hannah felt a chill pass through her.

A woman brushed by Hannah, then went to the man and gave him a hug. He kissed her. Arm in arm, they went into the food court together.

Sighing, Hannah resumed her search, scanning the crowd for the person who was playing this lethal game with her. She thought she saw a man staring at her from inside the entrance of Old Navy. But then she realized it was a mannequin. She felt so stupid. She knew her tormenter was watching her right now, amused at her silly mistakes.

She glanced at the videocassette in her hand. There was no label on the tape, probably something recorded live or off a TV. From the tape around the spools, she could see the movie had been stopped at a certain scene. Hannah knew when she put that video in a VRC and pressed “Play,” she would see another murder sequence.

She knew that her secret admirer was planning to kill again. And he wanted her to see how he would do it.

As soon as Hannah returned to the store, she ducked into the break room. She slipped the mystery video in the VCR and switched on the little television.

Audrey Hepburn came up on the screen. She was sitting in a rocking chair, with a walking cane across her lap. She wore a pink sweater. The room was awfully dark, and the poor quality of the video didn’t help matters.

As soon as Hannah saw Audrey talking to Richard Crenna, she figured out that the movie was the thriller
Wait Until Dark
. She hadn’t seen the film in years, and she didn’t know what came next.

Someone knocked on the break-room door; then Scott poked his head in. “You okay back here?” he asked.

Hannah quickly switched off the video. “Yeah, I was just checking this movie for a glitch,” she said. “Do you need me up front?”

“No, Britt’s handling it,” Scott replied. He stepped inside, then closed the door behind him. “Hannah, are you all right? You seem to be taking it pretty hard about this Lester guy getting shot.”

She wanted to tell him about the videos, but couldn’t. She shrugged uneasily. “It’s just—he was in the store only last week. And pretty much the same thing happened to Cindy Finkelston after she was in the store.”

“Well, it’s just a coincidence. I don’t mean to sound heartless, but I’m not shedding any tears for either of them.” Folding his arms, he leaned against the doorway frame. “So what happened over your lunch date with the dreamboat? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

“Oh, he’s just really pushy. He got on my nerves.” Hannah sighed. “I’ll be a couple of more minutes back here, then I’ll come help up front. Okay?”

He nodded. “Sure thing. Take your time.”

Scott stepped out and closed the door behind him.

Biting her lip, Hannah pressed the control on the VCR again, and
Wait Until Dark
came back on the screen. Audrey Hepburn was still talking to Richard Crenna in that dark room; then the scene cut to a parking lot at night. A man in an overcoat was walking across the shiny, wet pavement. They didn’t show his face. Suddenly, a car’s headlights glared into the camera, and tires screeched. It was a big, sleek, metal monster of an automobile from the mid-sixties. The car peeled out of a parking spot and came careening at the man.

Hannah watched in shock as he started to run. The car hit him full force, throwing his body against a chain-link fence. Its engine grinding, the car backed up, then slammed into him once more. His prone, lifeless body bounced against the fence. Its tires squealing, the car slammed into the man again and again.

Just as suddenly as the movie had cut to that harrowing murder in the parking lot, it switched back to Audrey Hepburn in the dimly lit room. Hannah remembered now. It was Richard Crenna’s accomplice, Jack Weston, killed in that parking lot—by the main heavy, played by Alan Arkin.

But Hannah didn’t know who would be killed that way in real life. And she didn’t know the killer.

Hannah ejected the video from the VCR. She kept thinking that she should call the police. But what could she tell them?
Someone will be mowed down by car in a parking lot. I don’t know when. I don’t know who it will be. But I’ve been getting videos predicting all these deaths. And oh, yeah, there’s a warrant out for my arrest. I’m wanted for kidnapping and theft.

She pulled the video out of the VRC and stared at it.

Someone knocked on the door again. This time, Britt peeked into the room. “Scott sent me back here to make sure you aren’t slashing your wrists or anything.”

Hannah let out a weak laugh. “I’m fine.”

“Honest?” Britt asked.

“No, I’m not,” Hannah admitted, shaking her head. “Something weird has been going on, and I—I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about it.” Hannah sighed. She felt herself tearing up. “Listen, Britt, can you keep a secret? I mean, you really can’t tell anyone about this….”

His head on the pillow, Guy gazed up at her with sleepy eyes.

Hannah stroked his blond hair. “If you hear somebody at the door a little later, it’s Britt. She’s spending the night.”

Guy squinted at her.

“You remember my friend Britt from work, don’t you?”

“She has a pierced ear here and here, doesn’t she?” He pointed to his eyebrow and then his nostril.

Cracking a smile, Hannah nodded. “That’s right. Now, get some sleep.”

She tucked the covers under his chin, and made the choo-choo sound. He nodded off after a few minutes. Hannah left his night-light on, then tiptoed out of his bedroom.

She took some sheets from the linen closet so she could make up the sofa for Britt.

It had been such a relief to finally unload on someone today. At least, she didn’t have to feel so alone in this nightmare. Unfortunately, Britt didn’t entirely understand the situation.

“So—somebody’s leaving these movies where you can find them?” she’d asked a couple of hours ago in the break room. “And it’s like clues to these murders you’re supposed to solve?”

“Well, not exactly,” Hannah tried to explain. “You see—”

“Why is this happening to you?”

“I wish I knew,” Hannah said.

“Well, why don’t you go to the cops?”

“That’s just it. I can’t. Swear you won’t tell anyone, Britt. But I’ve had some trouble with the police, and I can’t go to them without sinking into deeper trouble. It’s something totally unrelated to what’s happening now.”

“What did you do?” Britt whispered.

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
Sixteen Candles
. We’ll do each other’s hair and try on each other’s makeup. It’ll be a blast.” He glanced around. “Hey, I like your place.”

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,
watching me,
haven’t you?”

“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.