The Dead Girls Club - Damien Angelica Walters Page 0,81

a door to keep it from closing. “Are you with the health care guys or the lawyers?” His voice dips just a touch on the last word.

“The lawyers,” I say, adding a wince.

“Good luck,” he says.

“Thank you.” I dash away as the doors shut.

I race for the stairs at the far end of the hallway, passing a group of thirty-somethings in business casual who watch my progress with amusement. Two at a time, I take the steps. By the time I reach the sixth floor, my lungs are shrieking in protest.

The hallway here is empty. Back to the stairs I go. There’s one cart on the fifth floor, at the opposite end of the hallway. No housekeeper in sight. I’m about ten feet away when a uniformed woman emerges from a room. Pale skin and hair, small stature. She grabs a roll of toilet paper from her cart and disappears again. I step closer.

She returns to her cart. This time, she sees me. “Did you need anything?” she asks. No smile, but a helpful mien.

And it’s her. It’s Becca’s mother. Here, only six feet away. Her hair is white now, not blonde. Her skin holds a prison-pale luster, the wrinkles faint. In spite of her hair, she looks much younger than I expected. There’s something in her face, something sad and tired and … broken. She’s a far cry from the woman who staggered into the kitchen while Becca and I made ice cream. The woman who scared me with her slurred speech and the way she touched my hair. But she’s here, doing her job like nothing’s wrong, like she hasn’t turned my world upside down and inside out, like she doesn’t even know who I am.

“Why?” I say, the word tumbling like a brick from my mouth.

Her brow creases. “I’m sorry?”

Breath coming too fast, I tug the scarf from my head. “Why did you send me the necklace? The picture she drew? Why did you leave the squirrel in my mailbox?” My voice isn’t as strong as it should be, but it’s as strong as I can manage.

Lauren’s lips part. Her eyes widen. She’s a rabbit in disaster’s headlights, but I know she recognizes me.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I say. “What do you want?”

“You need to go now,” she says. “Please. Not here, not now.” She glances around, takes a half step back.

This isn’t going the way I thought it would. She isn’t acting how I imagined she would. Why isn’t she sneering? Why isn’t she threatening me with worse? Why isn’t she demanding to know what I did to Becca? Or revealing that she already knows?

A couple emerges from the elevator, dragging their wheeled suitcases and loud conversation toward us. Lauren moves her cart aside, still not looking at me.

“Please go,” she says.

“Fine, but I’ll see you tonight,” I say, not waiting for her reply.

* * *

Google didn’t reveal that the business park is abandoned. The five buildings, all four stories with narrow windows, some broken, others pocked with bullet holes, appear as though they’ve not had tenants in ages. Graffiti streaks across the brick and concrete. Weeds jut from cracks in the parking lot asphalt like deformed Chia Pets. There should be security fencing, but there isn’t. Half the lights are burned or maybe shot out. The whole place feels like a set from an apocalyptic movie. Maybe one with zombies.

I navigate an obvious pile of shattered glass and pull into a parking space in front but leave the engine running. I drain half my water bottle, but my mouth is still parched. No way am I getting out of the car until Lauren’s here.

I’m five minutes early, but I check my email, just in case. Nothing new. I pull my coat tighter around me. As far as Ryan knows, I’m downtown meeting Gia for drinks. I trace the edge of the steering wheel from top to bottom. When I saw Lauren at the hotel, I was all panic and surprise. Tonight, though, I’m prepared. I’m going to stay calm and not ask questions. I’m going to let her speak first. And if she tries the timid-old-woman act again, I’m going to call her out on it. Because it had to be an act. And it was good, I’ll give her that. It almost had me convinced. But I had her cornered at her job, a job she can’t afford to lose with her prison record, so what else could she do? Alexa