Dead Pretty - Samantha Towle Page 0,25

at times.

The door to my building opens just as I reach it.

“Jack.” A rush of feelings overwhelms me at the sight of him. A sudden urge to put myself in his arms and have him hold me is strong.

I have to press my feet to the ground to stop myself from giving in to the urge.

“Hey.” His breath fogs in the cold. He moves his eyes to the side, looking at the crowd I just left. “What’s going on over there?”

I stare at him a moment before I answer, “A woman was murdered. The super of the building found her in her apartment.”

I watch as any expression disappears from his face, smoothing out. His eyes are fixed on the crowd ahead.

It seems like a long time, but it’s probably only seconds before he does anything. And it comes in the form of a blink. Then, his face moves back into an easy expression, the one I know him for.

He turns his eyes back to mine. “Do you know what happened?”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. “No.”

His eyes move down to the bag in my hand. “You been shopping?” he asks.

I’m jolted by the abrupt subject change.

“Er … yeah. I just went to buy the lightbulb I owe you.” I hold the bag, containing said lightbulb, out to him.

He takes it from me. “Thanks.”

“Thanks for the loan and the help last night.”

He shrugs.

There’s a moment of silence between us. It’s almost … awkward.

Like we used to have in the beginning when I first met him.

I feel compelled to fill it.

“Are you going out?” I ask him.

“What? Oh, yeah.” He glances back at the door behind him. “I’m just … going for a walk.”

In the snow? Although I guess it’s all we have weather-wise around here, so if he wants to take a walk, he doesn’t have much of a choice.

I look down at his clothes.

He’s in his usual garb of jeans, T-shirt, leather jacket, and motorcycle boots.

“You might want to reconsider putting on at least a hat or scarf. It’s piss cold out here if you haven’t noticed.”

I expect him to chuckle or, in the very least, smile, but he doesn’t.

Then again, a girl has just been found dead. Laughter of any kind would be really inappropriate.

“The cold doesn’t bother me.”

I should have guessed that about him. It’s not like I ever see him wearing anything other than what he has on.

“Okay. Well, have a nice walk.” I don’t want to end my time with him, but I feel like I should.

The air between us seems different. Uncomfortable almost. Nothing like it was last night.

If I didn’t know better, I would think that I did something wrong.

But I did do something wrong last night. Punched him—which was by accident, kind of—and was an ass to him. I apologized, which he accepted at the time, but maybe he’s changed his mind.

“Jack … is everything okay?”

He gives me a confused look, brows pulling together. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You just seem … never mind. Enjoy your walk.”

I move past him, walking toward the door to take me into our apartment building.

“Stay safe,” Jack says to me.

His words and low tone make me pause and turn back. But Jack is already striding away, heading in the direction I just came from.

I let myself inside the building, heading up to my apartment.

It’s not until later, when I’m sitting on my sofa with my latest book and a cup of coffee, that I realize it.

It’s a small thing. But it’s been there, niggling on the fringes of my consciousness.

Jack didn’t smile when he first saw me.

I know it sounds stupid. But Jack always smiles at me.

Always. I noticed because I liked it.

And today, he didn’t.

The day a woman is found murdered.

Also, now that I think about it … he didn’t seem shocked or surprised when I told him about the murder.

It was almost like he’d already known it happened.

I take the young girl’s library card from her and begin checking out the stack of books she brought to the desk.

Some good books in here, I muse as I scan the label on each one, creating a new pile of books to go.

I’m working on the checkout desk.

I don’t usually work here. I prefer not to. Facing people isn’t my thing. But we’re a staff member short today.

Mike didn’t show up for work, which isn’t like him. Well, that’s what our manager, Margaret, told me.

She said she called him, and he