body parts let her know she’d have a fine set of bruises in the morning.
“What happened?”
Hallie’s alarmed voice brought Sam’s head around. The tall, slender woman stood in the doorway, dark eyes wide, long-fingered hand clamped over her mouth. A short, generous figure shoved past her into the room.
“Phew!” Jenna coughed. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, just help me up so we can get out of here.” Sam struggled to push away from the set of shelves and find the floor with her feet. Two pairs of hands grasped her arms and hauled her upright. She pulled her friends with her out the door and slammed it shut.
Choking, they headed for the side exit and fresh air. The route took them between antiquated clothing presses, puffers and a pillow-cleaning machine—nothing like the state-of-the-art equipment due to arrive in a few weeks.
Mere steps behind her friends, Sam barreled into the side alleyway and hauled in a breath of outdoor oxygen.
Next to her, Hallie shook her head like a dog shedding water. “Whoa! Whatever was in those bottles is potent.”
Jenna pinched her nose. “Stink and a half!”
“I know.” Sam slumped against the brick wall of her building. “Perchloroethylene. Perc for short. It’s petroleum-based and so toxic and flammable it’s all but banned in the industry. That’s why I have to pay an arm and a leg to have a hazardous-material company haul it out of here. We’re not to touch it…well, except to clean up the mess I just made.”
In the late afternoon, the two-story dry cleaners cast shade across the space between it and the print shop next door. The coolness was welcome on this late summer day. Sam’s nose and eyes cleared, but a weight still pressed her lungs. How could she possibly finish this gargantuan cleanup task in time to—
Stop it! Breathe in, breathe out. All would be well. This was a minor setback. She—“Bastian!”
Sam tore open the door and raced back inside the building. The smell wasn’t too bad from this distance, but what if she’d shut her cat in the storeroom?
A plaintive meow brought her up short. She changed direction, charged through a doorway and skidded to a halt in a small vestibule facing a closed and locked exit to the rear alleyway. She turned and gazed up the wooden stairs that skirted the wall and led to her second-floor apartment. The Abyssinian perched regally on the top landing, slim body encircled by his long tail. The jerky tip-twitch matched the glare from those copper eyes.
A muted giggle slipped past Sam’s lips. “Your humble servant begs your pardon. I have mightily offended your highness. Allow me to admit you to your chambers.” She trod up the stairs and let him into the apartment, then headed down to find her friends. As she reached the bottom, they came toward her from the direction of the odorous storeroom.
“I’ll take that.” Hallie reached for something Jenna held in her fist.
The shorter woman danced away, tucking the item behind her back. Both of them laughed, but Hallie crossed her arms over her long-tailed shirt. The two friends were a study in contrasts, like a dusky-skinned Amazon queen matched with a jovial munchkin. But they were identical in their attention to personal grooming—except for today.
Not on her life was Sam going to tell the elegant Channel Six news reporter that tufts of her black hair stuck out like she was Einstein’s photonegative image. Nor would she inform the fastidious head chef and part owner of The Meridian “fine dining experience” that she looked like she’d been dipped in wheat flour. Thank the Lord for friends who would give up a Saturday and risk their manicured nails to help with a dirty project like hers.
Sam grinned. “What’s up with you two?” She looked from one to the other.
Jenna held out her arm and opened her fist. A roll of 35 mm film rested on her palm. “I thought I kicked something when I ran out of there. I found it under one of the presses.”
“Strange. Maybe the film was in that box of unclaimed property I was trying to get at when I took my tumble.”
“Could be, but I want to develop it,” Hallie said.
“Why? It’s probably just shots of some stranger’s boring vacation from sometime in the last century.” Jenna surrendered the roll.
Hallie flipped the canister in the air, caught it, and stuffed it into her jeans pocket. “Call it journalistic curiosity. Besides, I don’t often get a chance to process film the old-fashioned way.”
Sam shook her head. “Go upstairs and order a pizza, ladies. I’ll crack a few windows and open that storeroom door so things can air out awhile before I lock up for the night.”
Jenna snorted. “Why not leave the windows ajar? Maybe some idiot thief will sneak in and take a few of these priceless treasures off our hands.”
Thief? Sam’s stomach rolled. Sensory impressions clamored for attention in her head. A door crashing inward. A dirty face with crazed eyes. The sear of burning flesh.
Sam blinked and shook off the flashback as she walked away without a word.
“Nice going, Jen.” Hallie’s fierce whisper carried to Sam’s ears.
On the other side of the building, Sam shoved a window sash upward. Why was she still so touchy about the subject of break-ins? The incident happened when she was seventeen. She was a grown woman now. It was past time to get over it. But the pep talk didn’t wash the sawdust from her mouth.
Two hours later, alone with her cat, Sam started running a bath. As the water splashed into the tub and steam rose, she opened a bottle of scented oil and poured a healthy dollop into the rising pool. The exotic floral aroma enveloped her. Wonderful!
She pulled the padded band out of her ponytail, and her thick, honey-brown hair fell loose to brush her shoulder blades. As soon as the water filled two-thirds of the tub, she eased in. Bubbles tickled her neck, and the knot in the small of her back loosened. The phone jangled, and she sat up, then shook her head and lay back again. Whoever it was could leave a message. She was going to enjoy a good, long soak.
By the time she climbed out, her muscles were relaxed and supple. Sam glanced across her shoulder into the wide mirror as she dried her back. The towel ran with little sensation across pale splotches of faded scars and puckers of skin-graft seams. She took a long-handled sponge, dipped it into an open jar of emollient, and rubbed every inch of the damaged skin until the lotion was absorbed. She rinsed the sponge, then donned pajamas before slipping into the smooth robe of real Chinese silk Jenna had brought back from a mission trip to the Far East.
On slipper-clad feet, she wandered to the kitchen for a glass of milk. Bastian, recovered from his sulk, twined around her legs and purred. Milk in hand, she surveyed her domain. Once the business was up and running, she’d have to remodel this apartment. Fifties retro was back in style, but all this burnt orange wasn’t trendy décor; it was the real deal.
A blinking light on the phone caught her attention. She crossed the room and pushed the button. Static hiss came through, then a shaky sigh, followed by, “I’m coming over. We’ve got a big problem.”
Sam frowned. That husky growl sounded like Hallie. Couldn’t be. Nothing ever got the queen of poise that ruffled.
A buzz sounded near Sam’s ear, and she let out a squawk. Someone was downstairs at the private entrance. The buzz sounded again, loud and long, like the person was leaning on the button. The noise let up. Gingerly, she pressed Talk. “Hello?”
Heavy breathing answered. The hair on Sam’s arms stood at attention.
“It’s me.” A familiar voice spoke—familiar but off. “Let me in. I have to see you. Now!”
“I’ll be right down, Hallie. Are you okay?”
“In! Now!”
Sam bounded