The Soul Collector - By Tamela Quijas Page 0,22

voice in her head could only be associated with one individual, Luke Angeles.

She paused, knowing Luke Angeles wasn't correct. A ghostly voice had whispered the man’s name into her ear a few nights past.

Lucien…

Lucien, what?

Eva could bet a month's paycheck everything about him was false. For hours, she scanned various sites on the web, seeking him on every search engine, unable to uncover any information about the ever-elusive man.

In other words, he simply didn't exist.

Taking a deep breath, Eva approached the structure. She pushed the glass doors open and stepped into welcoming warmth. Past the entryway, a hulking figure blocked her path. She paused, patient as he rose from behind the streamlined desk situated between two elevator doors.

With a great show of his impressive size, he rolled his broad shoulders and Eva deduced the man as an off-duty officer. His primary profession was apparent by the way he stood, as if he were prepared to issue a command, or obey an order.

Obviously, he was pulling in a bit of extra cash by clandestinely moonlighting as security/doorman to the plush apartment complex. She couldn't knock him. Times were rough for everyone and a living was just that, a living.

The door attendant gave her a liberal once over. His features darkened perceptibly and his eyes, beneath the nearly weight of bushy brows, narrowed. At first, he mentally judged her. There had to be numerous individuals seeking entry to the building, and she wasn't one of the regulars.

“May I help you?”�

“I'm here to visit Mr. Angeles,” Eva didn't relish having to exchange words with the intimidating figure that easily had a hundred pounds to his advantage, and the protective attitude of a pit bull.

“Mr. A?” He paused, fascinated.

“Yes, Mr. Angeles.” She nodded her head, granting him her widely photographed Eva Keyes smile. His glowering expression lightened and recognition flooded his eyes before he issued a low and appreciative whistle.

“Hey, you’re that interviewer from TV! Don't tell me! Don't tell me!” His hands flew upright, broad palms facing her while he struggled to remember her name. The pit bull impression immediately vanished, and she found herself likening him to an over-eager, over-sized bull terrier. “You’re that lady from Keyes to New York! You’re Eva Keyes!”�

“Yes, sir,” she responded dutifully, her smile tight.�

“Eva Keyes!” Another appreciative whistle followed her name. He came around the desk and approached her, his hand outstretched in greeting. “The wife is not going to believe this one!”

“The one and only,” she affirmed.

“The great Mr. A lives in the building I work in, and the famed Eva Keyes is visiting. Now, if that just doesn’t take all!”

Eva found her hand enveloped in his strong grip and winced as the limb was vigorously pumped up and down. Dimly, she began to have second thoughts about approaching the most popular paranormal investigator in the world on his home territory. To add to her worries, she wondered if there was any chance she’d stay off the front page of the morning papers. Her personal visit with Mr. A would be pricey tabloid fodder, and the publicity would be her fault.

As the door attendant released her hand and returned to his station, Eva waited while he continued to prattle on, taking a moment to sign an autograph. After what seemed an eternity, he recollected his duties. He pressed an invisible button on his computer keyboard, summoning the ever-elusive Mr. Angeles' attention.

“Hey, Mr. A, you would never guess who's here to visit you!”�

There were two faint words uttered on the other end, the exact phrase as indecipherable as the muttered tones filling her ears. Whatever was said, the security guard guffawed uproariously. Tears were evident in his eyes while he choked out his response.

“What do you know, Miss Keyes?” He asked quizzically, not really demanding an answer. He continued to chuckle as he buzzed her past the door at his side. “Our Mr. A is a ghost hunter and mind reader! It seems he's been waiting for you.”�

***

She stared fixedly at the closed door until she swore she detected her distorted likeness in the buffed wood. She huffed, straightening her shoulders and shook her head. She wondered if her uncertainty was as obvious as her wavering reflection displayed.

It was too late to turn around, and running would make her appear a bigger fool. Struggling to regain her composure, she grasped at the ornate silver knocker and dropped it. She flinched as the sound reverberated down the lengthy, vacant hall.

Eva’s heart accelerated to a maddening tempo and