After She's Gone (West Coast #3)

Yeah, she should never have come here.

As she hurried through the rain, she noticed the streets were now nearly deserted, the night thick, the glow from the streetlamps watery and weak. She pulled her cell from her purse and saw that Trent hadn’t called again. Nor had he responded to her text. She figured she’d call him when she was driving east. For now, she didn’t want to be too distracted, needed to be aware.

Her car was parked in a space she’d found near a hospital, only a few blocks from the restaurant. She half jogged along the sidewalk, not waiting for the pedestrian crossing lights to change, feeling suddenly anxious and alone. She considered calling Trent, just to hear his voice, but she didn’t want to go into everything with McNary yet.

Her breath fogged. Her head still ached. The park was eerily empty as she passed it, a stray dog sniffing a trash can, the distant sound of the freeway a steady hum. The storefronts were lit only by security lamps, a few of the apartments rising above showing warm patches of light or the flickering blue illumination of a television, though most of the windows were dark, the world asleep.

Jabbing her hands deep in her pockets, she felt the rain drumming against her hood. She turned a final corner and heard a hint of footsteps behind her. Someone else out this late at night? Her pulse leaped. The footfalls worried her a bit and she turned, trying to see around the edge of her hood, but she could see no one.

Still, she definitely heard steps running behind her through these empty city streets.

The hospital, a red brick edifice, was only two blocks away. If someone were really following her, she could walk inside. Sure, there were security people who would be questioning her before allowing entrance, but that would be fine. More than fine.

The footfalls seemed to increase over the insistent pounding of the rain.

Cassie broke into a run. Rain slid down her face and she kicked up water, her shoes sodden. But she didn’t care. The hospital was close. A behemoth of a structure that was, at its heart, over a hundred years old, though it had gone through several renovations to modernize and expand it over the past century. Now the hospital and surrounding clinics were connected by sky bridges and tunnels and sprawled over several city blocks.

Rounding a corner, she saw the red letters for the Emergency Room burning brightly through the curtain of rain. Thank God!

The footsteps behind her seemed to quicken.

From where?

Oh, God.

Breathing hard, Cassie craned her neck, this time looking behind her a little frantically.

Nothing!

Was she imagining the sounds?

Where the hell was the runner, the person following her?

Faster. Run, faster! You’ll be safe—the hospital, just a few more feet and—

“Hey!” a deep voice shouted.

She stopped short, tripped, pitched forward.

Her heart flew to her throat.

Meaty hands grabbed hold of her shoulders, and she shrieked as she nearly stumbled into a huge bear of a man wearing a long, black coat, hat, and boots. “Watch where you’re going!” he admonished as she fought back panic. His face too was wet from the rain, his eyes black as coal. “Hey, now, what’s wrong?” he asked, and she realized his expression, at first startled, had turned to one of concern. Six foot two, if he were an inch, and African-American, he peered down at her. “You in some kind of trouble, miss?” And then she saw the white clerical collar peeking out from under his jacket.

“No . . . no . . .” She twisted her head around to the empty street behind her. No one was there. No one, not even a jogger out for a night workout. She swallowed back her fear and cleared her throat. “I’m fine,” she insisted, though her voice sounded weak and high-pitched.

Slowly he released her. “You’re sure? ’Cuz you look like you just saw a ghost.”

“I—I’m sorry. Really. I’m okay.” She was backing up, hoping she didn’t run into someone else.

Dark eyes studied her hard. His eyebrows pulled together and beneath the brim of his hat his forehead creased. “Hey. Wait a minute. Aren’t you that actress everyone’s looking for? Allie . . . oh, man, what’s her name?” He snapped his fingers as if to think.

She turned then and left him staring after her. She headed toward the bright lights of the hospital. He was probably putting two and two together, figuring out who she was, but, thankfully, he was harmless, a man of God.