"Do you like to dance?" he had asked her.
She had told him she didn't know, but she thought she used to like it. He only smiled at the puzzling answer, said good; they would dance in the new year.
She didn't tell him that her father didn't believe in dancing, or that he'd said it was the devil's way to tempt young people into sins of the flesh. The only dancing she had ever done was in her room with the door shut and the music turned low. Music she was always quick to shut off at the sound of approaching footsteps.
She was standing at the closet door, caressing the soft fabric of her new dress. She couldn't afford another new dress, but she wouldn't need to. The owner said just wearing different accessories would totally change the look of this one. Caroline knew exactly what she'd wear with the dress too; the rhinestone belt and dangly earrings that had been in the trunk. They'd be perfect for New Year's Eve. She wondered when her mother had worn them. And suddenly wished she was here so she could ask her.
Jeffrey had said they were going to a veteran's club his father had belonged to when he was alive. As his son, he'd inherited the privilege of membership. The place was near the bay not far from where she used to live. She told him the number of the house and he said he'd driven past it on a number of occasions. "I think it's up for sale," he said.
Later, as they stood at her door, his eyes lingered on her mouth and she knew he wanted to kiss her, and she was drawn to him like a heat magnet. But she made no move toward him. And without touching her, he had merely leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Goodnight, Caroline. Sleep well."
Then he went on upstairs to his own room.
Forty-Three
Her cheek still tingling from the touch of his lips on her skin, she let herself into her room and closed and locked the door. Smiling dreamily. She'd forgotten that you could be this happy.
The wine had made her sleepy and she had thought she might fall asleep at once, but instead she lay awake admiring her little tree and thinking about Jeffrey Denton, spinning dreams she dared to imagine had a possibility of coming true.
The streetlight entered her room like a bright moon. A magical moon. Its light played over the backs of her hands that rested on the blanket, turning them an ethereal blue-white as she lay there reliving the evening, replaying Jeffrey's every word and gesture and expression.
Then, like a slow eclipse blocking the moon, other thoughts, other voices infiltrated her mind, diminished her smile and chased the glow of tonight away. She tried to deny them entry but to no avail. He kept you waiting tonight, the voice said, made you anxious, worried that he might not come at all. How do you know it wasn't a deliberate ploy? You don't know this man, really. Just because you heard him playing piano and spent a couple of hours in his company doesn't mean you know him. He had been late calling for her because he was talking to his mother on the phone, he said, but how did she know that was true? She didn't.
She tried to shake off the rush of insecurity, of anxiety, told herself she was being silly. If he hadn't wanted to be with her he wouldn't have asked her out in the first place.
He might have changed his mind. It would have been awkward not to show up considering they both lived in the same building. Well, he certainly wouldn't have asked you out twice, would he? Yes, this finally made sense to her. This voice belonged to the part of her that wanted her to be happy. That wanted her to be able to trust her heart again.
In a way, life was easier living at Bayshore, which had served as a kind of cocoon, leaving her with no decisions to make. No responsibility. In a way, like crawling back into the womb. Then she thought of Ella's snoring beside her, the constant rhythmic squeak of the rocking chair, and those pretend knitting-needles that you could almost hear clicking madly as Ella's fingers busily knitted one, pearled two. No, she didn't miss that, nor did she want to return to it.
She had come to like the sound of rain outside her barless window, hearing the laughter of children playing down on the sidewalk. She liked talking to her customers, being treated like a whole person, someone strong and intact. Someone a man like Jeffrey Denton would find interesting.
With this pleasant thought, she closed her eyes and was soon asleep.
Sometime in the night, she woke up thinking she heard something. She sat up in the bed and listened.
The green glowing numbers on the clock on her night table said 3:01 a.m.
The room was in semi-darkness. She peered into deep shadows that the glow from the streetlight did not reach. Everything seemed fine. Glints of Christmas bulbs pierced the darkness. Just a dream, she told herself, and snuggled down into the blankets again. She was about to go to sleep when she heard it another sound, a soft shuffling of feet outside her door.
She stared at the door. The narrow strip at the bottom, where light found its way from a low watt bulb in the hallway, had darkened, like ink spilled and spreading, blocking out the light.
Someone was standing outside her door. At first she was not really afraid, just startled and curious. But when the doorknob slowly turned, first one way and then the other, her simple surprise and puzzlement turned to fright and her heart galloped in her breast like a small hunted animal. She willed herself to remain calm. It was probably just a neighbor coming home late from a party, confused from having consumed a little too much Christmas cheer. Maybe he was on the wrong floor. Obviously not the wrong building, since whoever it was out there, had to have a key to the outside door.
Finally she called out in a timid voice, "Who's there?" The doorknob grew immediately still and silent. But someone was out there. She pushed back the blankets and sat up, eased her feet onto the cool floor, reached for her robe at the foot of the bed.
She padded to the door, tying the robe as she went. Yes, whoever it was still out there; she could hear them breathing. Who was it? Jeffrey? Harold? Mrs. Bannister? Why didn't they answer? Why would anyone want to frighten her?
Maybe it was someone else. Maybe the killer. Hadn't she told Mrs. Bannister anyone could get in here if they really wanted to? She remembered the sirens she had heard tonight as she sat across from Jeffrey. The sinking feeling she had had at the bone-chilling wail, the fading of it into the night.
She told herself it had nothing to do with her.
She wanted to tell whoever it was to go away but her throat seemed to have closed up, robbing her of voice. Cautiously, she moved closer and pressed an ear to the door.
"Caroline," came the soft whisper from the other side, as though whoever it was had sensed her there. She jumped back with a lurching of her heart, hand at her throat. Again, the doorknob rattled softly in its casing while her heart thumped against her ribcage like a small faulty engine.
She stood hugging herself in the yellow robe that suddenly seemed to have lost all ability to warm her. The whispered voice might have belonged to a man or a woman; she couldn't be sure but she sensed a man.
Standing there, her fear was gradually replaced with anger and indignance. How dare they? This is my room. No one had a right to intrude on her privacy, to wake her in the middle of the night. No one. She made her voice firm, authoritative. "Who is it?" she called out.
Act strong and you will be strong, Dr. Rosen had told her.
"What do you want?" she called.
"Y O U…"
At once, a chill slipped through her as she thought of the man who rescued her from Mike Handratty. The man who had hid his face and whispered her name. She'd just come from shopping at Natalie's Boutique, had her packages with her. They'd slapped against her hip as she ran home.
Hearing soft footsteps descending the stairs, she hurried to the window, and saw a hooded figure fleeing into the night.
The whispered word YOU echoed in her mind. It had come through the door like the hiss of a serpent and coiled itself around her heart. Had she not been listening with every fibre of her being, she might not have heard him going downstairs at all. The strip of light was back beneath the door.
Even
seeing the figure disappear into the night did not satisfy her that he was really gone. Maybe it was a trick, and he was back now. A good twenty minutes passed before she gathered the courage to open the door. She unlocked and opened the door a crack and looked out into the scantily lighted hallway. She was about to close it again when she noticed the tiny lavender bag hanging on her doorknob, the logo of Natalie's Boutique clearly visible on the side of the bag. Both puzzled and curious, she unhooked it from the knob and took it inside. Her name was printed on the tiny card, nothing else.
She undid the wrapping, and lifted the lid of the creamy velvet box. She was surprised to find inside the gold pin the storeowner had suggested to her.
Looking at it, you would have thought it would be a perfect match for the teardrop earrings, but it wasn't. It was too large for one thing, and the gold had a more yellow cast than her mother's earrings. But not wanting to seem unappreciative, Caroline had let the storekeeper think they were not in her budget. Which was true, but not the main reason she didn't get it.
Had Jeffrey bought it for her as a Christmas gift? But why would he? How would he even know she'd been looking at it? Coincidence? One thing was sure; she had no intention of keeping such an expensive gift. She would return it and hope he understood. If it was Jeffrey who had hung it there. The more she thought about it, the less it made sense. Why would he knock on her door at such an hour and then not identify himself? Then run out into the night. Why had he whispered? Because he didn't want to wake the neighbors? Yet that whispered voice had given her the creeps. Made her feel threatened. Anyway, why wouldn't he simply have given it to her when they were at the bar if he'd bought it for her?
But if he didn't leave this gift, then whose footsteps had she heard going down the stairs? What shadowy figure had she glimpsed running into the night?
Her thoughts went round like mice in a maze. She wished she had someone to talk to. Someone she could trust. But there was no more time to dwell on the mystery, she needed some sleep. She had to get up for work in a few hours.
Forty-Four
Upon entering the restaurant the next morning, Christmas day, it was obvious the place was in a state of terrified excitement. She thought of the sirens last night, and the bad feeling returned.
"Isn't it awful about that poor woman," Ethel said, as soon as she walked into the kitchen.
"What woman, Ethel?" She hung her coat on the rack.
"Didn't you hear, Caroline? That woman who owns that nice store—Natalie's Boutique. I think you got my scarf there. It's lovely by the way and so thoughtful of you."
Caroline, barely able to answer, said she was glad she liked it. "No, I didn't hear anything," she breathed. Only the sirens. "What happened?"
"She was murdered last night. Horrible. Her daughter found her on the floor of her shop. The place was in shambles. Something like that to happen on Christmas Eve, so tragic?"
A numbness went through her. Yet while the news was shocking, it was not altogether a surprise. Something in her had known when she heard those sirens last night that something terrible had happened.
"The cops think it was the same man who killed those other women," Ethel continued, putting on a new pot of coffee, "but no one knows, really. Though, according to a friend of mine who should, she apparently wasn't sexually molested like the others. That's why I'm hearing anyway, but mostly it's all speculation. There hasn't been time to do an autopsy. The cops aren't saying much in the media."
Caroline didn't realize tears were streaming down her cheeks until Ethel said, "Did you know her, honey? I can see that you're upset. Not so surprising though, even if you didn't. There's a devil out there killing women. Enough to upset anyone."
"I shopped there a couple of times," Caroline said. "She was really nice. She told me her daughter and grandson were spending Christmas with her. She was so happy about that."
Caroline wanted to sit and weep but there was no time to dwell on this latest horror. She mopped at her eyes with some tissues, then got into a clean uniform, grabbed her checkbook and went out into the restaurant where the tables were already filling up. She found herself studying the male customers, those with nowhere else to go on Christmas, wondering if one of them might be him.
Forty-Five
When Caroline got home from work, without even taking off her coat, she grabbed the little bag with the brooch inside and went upstairs to knock on Jeffrey's door. Her feet hurt and her mind was a whirl of uncertainties and fears. Thinking of Natalie Breen sent a fresh wave of sadness and anger over her. Why can't the police catch him? He must have left something of himself behind at the scene. Some clue.
She knocked on Jeffrey's door lightly, twice, harder the second time, but there was no answer. He wasn't home. As she was coming back downstairs, Mrs. Bannister called up to her. "Caroline, dear, you have visitor."
And then Nurse Addison was coming up the stairs to meet her, a wide smile on her face and Caroline could hardly believe her eyes. She looked so different out of her white uniform, dressed fashionably as a model in a long, brown coat with a rolled black velvet collar. Forgetting the bag she still held in her hand, Caroline rushed down the stairs, and threw her arms about her old friend and nurse, almost knocking her over in the process. "I'm so happy to see you, Nurse Addison," she cried. "Oh, what a wonderful Christmas present."
Lynne Addison grabbed the handrail and laughed softly, managing to hug her back with her other arm. "For me, too. And it's Lynne, Caroline. You don't have to call me Nurse Addison anymore. You and I are good friends. I left my husband and son engaged in a electronic hockey game," she laughed. "I doubt they'll even miss me. I really wanted to see you."
Mrs. Bannister stood at the foot of the stairs looking up with curiosity, smiling expectantly.
"This is my good friend, Lynne Addison," Caroline said. "That's Mrs. Bannister." Then, not wanting to share her visitor further, Caroline ushered the nurse upstairs and into her room. She closed the door and it shut with a small snick, the sound of privacy. She left the bag on top of the bureau and hugged the nurse again, feeling as if she never wanted to let her go. She knew she'd missed her, but she didn't realize how much.
"You smell so good," Caroline said, finally releasing Lynne from her embrace.
"Thank you. New perfume for Christmas from my dear hubby, Joe. L'air Du Temps. I'm glad you like it. Me, too. It's nice to be able to wear perfume; I couldn't at the hospital. Some of the patients and staff were allergic."
Caroline listened enraptured as Lynne told her a little about her life. She learned her husband was a firefighter, retired now as she was. They'd been married for thirty-five years and had one married son and a granddaughter named Angel. How could I have forgotten her name? Lynne used to show us pictures and talk about her, like she was doing now.
"Angel's our pride and joy, of course. Joe's a pushover for her. But no one adores her more than her great-grandma, my mom. And it's mutual. They both light up at the sight of one another, but I don't know how much longer that will be true for my mother, Caroline. She has Alzheimer's'. We've moved her into our son, Kevin's old room. Thank God I'm home now so I can take care of her. But it's been difficult. Otherwise, I would have been to see you a lot sooner."
"I'm just glad you're here now. I've really missed you. I'm so sorry about your mother."
"Thanks. I try not to dwell on it. It doesn't help and it won't change anything. But enough about me. I want to hear all about you. You've been on my mind a lot, Caroline. I've worried about you ever since I put you in that taxi, though it's obvious I needn't have. You're doing great. Tell me everything. You're enjoying your job. I hear you're a waitress now."
"Yes. I was really nervous when they first put me out in the restaurant, but I like it now. People are nice, mostly."
"Yes, they are. But then you're easy to be nice to. Oh, by the way, Martha Blizzard has been released into her sister's care. She lives in Vancouver now. I knew you'd be happy to know that. You two were good fr
iends."
So far away, Caroline thought. Not likely they would ever have that cup of tea together. But she was glad for Martha. Maybe she would write to her. She would always remember her kindness. What Caroline said next seemed to come out of nowhere. "I think of Elizabeth every day. Especially now, at Christmas."
"Your little girl."
"Yes. I know that wouldn't be her name now, but it's how I always think of her. She'd be nine now. I wonder what she looks like, what sort of present she might like for Christmas. I wish I could send her something."
A look of resolve came into Lynne's face. "I can't promise anything, but I'm going to make sure there's a note in the adoption file that you are anxious to hear from her. You never know. When she's of age, she might want to find you too. We keep your current information on file. She looked around her. "This is really a very nice room, Caroline. And what a sweet tree."
Night Corridor Page 15
