is. But…it’s late,” Lauren said.
“Look. Up ahead,” Deanna said.
“What?” Lauren said, her heart quickening.
“Mounted police officer,” Deanna said dryly.
“Oh.” Lauren slowed her pace a bit, as they passed the officer, who touched his helmet and wished them goodnight, then rode on toward Bourbon Street. As soon as he was gone, she started hurrying again. She couldn’t help herself.
“Lauren, slow down,” Deanna begged. “My legs aren’t working too well.”
“That’s because they want to be stretched out in bed,” Lauren said.
“You two are tall—I’m not,” Heidi reminded her.
Gritting her teeth, Lauren forced herself to slow down. She was frightened, and she didn’t know why. And she was angry. She’d never been frightened here before in her life.
It was all because of that damn fortune teller.
She made herself keep to a slower pace, but she couldn’t stop herself from watching the shadows. And no matter how hard she tried to tell herself she was being ridiculous, she was certain the shadows were doing things shadows weren’t supposed to do. She couldn’t help but feel they were watching her.
The bed and breakfast, with its lovely courtyard and cottages, was straight ahead. She had to forcibly stop herself from breaking into a run.
But then they were there and she let out a sigh, praying that it wasn’t audible. The cast iron gates, dating back to the eighteen-forties, were opened to the main manor and the old cottages surrounding it.
Theirs was the middle cottage, directly facing the pool. Lauren all but dragged her friends toward it.
“Honestly, Lauren,” Heidi began to protest.
“See, we’re here. Your stubby little legs can get a rest.”
“Stubby little legs!” Heidi objected. “Some slave you are.”
“But we’re here. Aren’t you glad?” Lauren demanded.
Deanna yawned, pulling out her key and opening the door. “Yeah, yeah, great, we’re here.” She turned around and said speculatively, “Look how good that pool looks.”
“You want to go swimming—now?” Lauren demanded.
“Well, I’m sweating—since I ran back,” Deanna said.
“We’d make a racket,” Lauren said quickly.
“No one said that we couldn’t swim at night,” Heidi said.
“We’ve all had a fair bit to drink. No one is going to save us if we begin to drown,” Lauren informed them, longing desperately to go inside and lock the door.
“She’s right, you know. We have had too much to drink,” Heidi said.
“Right,” Lauren announced. She pushed open the door fully open and turned on the light. They’d left the television on. She was glad. She was even happier to realize that it was showing a 70’s sitcom, not some creepy horror show.
“How are we sleeping?” Heidi asked. There were two double beds in the bedroom behind the kitchen/living room area where they were standing. In the outer room, the bed was a pull-out sofa.
“I’ll take the bed out here, and you two can have the real beds,” Lauren said. She would have taken a hard wooden floor at that moment, she was so relieved just to be back in their cottage.
“You sure? You can bunk in with one of us,” Deanna offered.
“You snore when you drink,” Lauren said, grinning for real at last. “I’ll be fine out here.”
“I do not snore!” Deanna protested.
“You do,” Heidi told her, grinning. “But only when you drink,” she added quickly.
“Hmph,” Deanna muttered, and started for the bedroom.
“I guess that means she’s taking first dibs on the bathroom,” Heidi said, shrugging. “I’m getting into pajamas and crashing.” She gave Lauren a hug goodnight. “Thanks—this is the best trip, ever.”
“Absolutely,” Lauren agreed, wishing she could believe it was true.
She watched Heidi walk into the bedroom, too, then turned to open the sofa bed. It wasn’t so bad. The closet offered plenty of extra bedding and pillows, and she could brush her teeth and wash her face in the half-bath next to the kitchen.
Clad in boxers and a T-shirt, she started to turn off the TV and the lights.
Then she hesitated.
She left the TV on, wanting the sounds of a sitcom to lure her to sleep. She left the bathroom light on, then turned off the others. When she was done, she found herself walking to the window that looked out onto the courtyard and pool.
She had intended to reassure herself. Instead, she felt a jolt of ice rip along her spinal cord.
There was someone out there.
A man.
Watching their cottage.
He was leaning against a utility pole out by the street, but, despite the high fence, she could see him, and she knew he was staring at the cottage.
What was worse was the fact that she knew who he was.
Tall, dark hair, piercing blue eyes.
It was the man she had crashed into at the bar.
A scream froze in her throat. But then, as if he knew he was being watched in return, he stepped away from the pole and walked away. She saw the breadth of his back for a few seconds, and then he was gone.
She realized a few seconds later that she had a death grip on the curtains, and that she was still staring out at the night, which now appeared completely calm and normal.
She bit her lower lip, wondering if she should call the police. And tell them what? That she had no evidence, but she was certain a man she had met in a bar had followed them home and stared at their cottage? Like that would be a pressing concern to men who had to deal with real problems, drugs, thugs and nasty drunks. But no matter what the police would think, she was sure that they had been…
Stalked.
She glanced toward the bedroom. The door was ajar and the room was quiet. Heidi and Deanna were probably sound asleep already.
All right, she would just call the police and ask if an officer could do a few drive-bys during the night.
They would undoubtedly think she was a jumpy freak. But better that than…
Determined, she walked over and closed the door to the bedroom. Then she did call the police, using the non-emergency number. A very polite officer took her information, assured her that she wasn’t an idiot and promised that a car would check the property throughout the night.
When she hung up, she felt almost smug. She got a can of Coke from the refrigerator and curled her legs beneath her on the sofa-bed to watch TV.
But as she sat there, the cold from her soda seemed to seep into her bones. She couldn’t help but replay the her fading memories of the strange scene in the fortune teller’s tent. Now, alone in the dark, the details seemed to be coming back.
She had the strangest feeling that the evil being in the crystal ball had been real.
And that a dozen police officers couldn’t stand against the soul—stealing danger that he presented.
She had seen him. Great. Now she would think he was stalking her.
He was still in shock himself. It was impossible for anyone to look so much like Katie, and yet…It was as if his fiancée