Blood Red (4 page)

Heidi shrugged. “I'll tell you guys, but not Barry's friends. A few of them are crazy enough to show up.”

“Okay, where?” Lauren asked.

Heidi leaned forward, and her love for her soon-to-be husband was apparent in her gamine smile and powder blue eyes. “Fiji,” she said.

“Fiji. Wow,” Lauren said.

“You really think Barry's friends might show up in Fiji?” Deanna asked.

“You never know,” Heidi said. “I can guarantee you right now that we'll all probably end up in the pool at the reception, and that they'll tie cans to the car and do anything else ridiculous that guys can do. Most of those guys actually graduated from college, and some of them are even lawyers, like Barry, but honestly, they're still like a bunch of kids.”

“You're not marrying them, you're marrying Barry,” Deanna reminded her.

“Because he's wonderful,” Heidi said, finishing the statement by biting the cherry at the end of her swizzle stick.

“He is a good guy,” Lauren agreed.

“And he has some very attractive friends—silly, but attractive,” Deanna added.

“I can set you up any time,” Heidi promised.

“I like setting myself up. We'll see what happens at the wedding,” Deanna said.

Lauren let out a yawn, then quickly apologized. “Sorry.”

“It's late, isn't it?” Heidi said.

“Not for New Orleans. And this is your party,” Lauren assured her.

“I know, but I think I'd like to take my party back to our nice cushy cottage,” she said.

“Cool. I'm your slave,” Lauren said.

They both looked at Deanna, wondering if she intended to protest.

She laughed. “Okay, I admitit. I'm beat, too. But we're pathetic. I guarantee you they'll go all night at Barry's bachelor party.”

“Right, but his bachelor party is only one night. We have a whole weekend. We have days left to party,” Heidi said. “And shop.”

“For Fiji,” Lauren said.

“Yep, for Fiji,” Heidi agreed. She lifted her glass, and Deanna and Lauren followed suit, clinking their glasses in a toast. “Here's to the world's best friends.”

“Here's to you, too,” Lauren said.

“Let's not get maudlin,” Deanna said.

“If she wants to be maudlin, we'll be maudlin,” Lauren reminded Deanna.

Deanna groaned. “Okay, but let's walk in a maudlin manner and get back to the B and B.”

“Sounds good,” Lauren agreed.

As they headed for their cottage, they talked about the shops Heidi wanted to hit in the morning.

Along Bourbon Street, everything felt fine to Lauren. It was quieter than it had been earlier, but the bars were still open, and people were moving about. Groups still spilled out of the doorways of the clubs. Hawkers were handing out flyers for the strip joints. A group that appeared to be m ade up of retirees was moving along at a good clip. Most of the members seemed to be couples who had spent many years together, and who still enjoyed walking hand in hand. She had to smile. It didn't seem quite the right place, but then again, who was she to say? They were definitely young at heart.

It was when they turned off Bourbon that Lauren first felt the strange stirring of unease.

The street wasn't so well lit anymore.

And it wasn't filled with people.

The sound of Heidi's and Deanna's voices seemed to fade. She wasn't hearing them. Instead, she was watching. Watching the shadows.

They seemed to be moving too much. Houses and buildings, flush against one another, a few feet away, should have been still. Instead, their shadows stretched, became too long, seemed to loom.

Then there was the breeze. She hadn't felt it on Bourbon Street, but it was eerily noticeable now

She quickened her pace.

“Hey!” Heidi's protest broke through her sense of isolation.

“What?” Lauren asked.

“Do we really have to
run
back?”

“I think we should hurry, yes,” Lauren said.

“You told me this was a safe area,” Heidi protested.

“It is. But…it's late,” Lauren said.

“Look. Up ahead,” Deanna said.

“What?” Lauren said, her heart quickening.

“Mounted police officer,” Deanna said dryly.

“Oh.” Lauren slowed her pace a bit, as they passed the officer, who touched his helmet and wished them goodnight, then rode on toward Bourbon Street. As soon as he was gone, she started hurrying again. She couldn't help herself.

“Lauren, slow down,” Deanna begged. “My legs aren't working too well.”

“That's because they want to be stretched out in bed,” Lauren said.

“You two are tall—I'm not,” Heidi reminded her.

Gritting her teeth, Lauren forced herself to slow down. She was frightened, and she didn't know why. And she was angry. She'd never been frightened here before in her life.

It was all because of that damn fortune teller.

She made herself keep to a slower pace, but she couldn't stop herself from watching the shadows. And no matter how hard she tried to tell herself she was being ridiculous, she was certain the shadows were doing things shadows weren't supposed to do. She couldn't help but feel they were
watching
her.

The bed and breakfast, with its lovely courtyard and cottages, was straight ahead. She had to forcibly stop herself from breaking into a run.

But then they were there and she let out a sigh, praying that it wasn't audible. The cast iron gates, dating back to the eighteen-forties, were opened to the main manor and the old cottages surrounding it.

Theirs was the middle cottage, directly facing the pool. Lauren all but dragged her friends toward it.

“Honestly, Lauren,” Heidi began to protest.

“See, we're here. Your stubby little legs can get a rest.”

“Stubby little legs!” Heidi objected. “Some slave you are.”

“But we're here. Aren't you glad?” Lauren demanded.

Deanna yawned, pulling out her key and opening the door. “Yeah, yeah, great, we're here.” She turned around and said speculatively, “Look how good that pool looks.”

“You want to go swimming—now?” Lauren demanded.

“Well, I'm sweating—since I ran back,” Deanna said.

“We'd make a racket,” Lauren said quickly.

“No one said that we couldn't swim at night,” Heidi said.

“We've all had a fair bit to drink. No one is going to save us if we begin to drown,” Lauren informed them, longing desperately to go inside and lock the door.

“She's right, you know. We
have
had too much to drink,” Heidi said.

“Right,” Lauren announced. She pushed open the door fully open and turned on the light. They'd left the television on. She was glad. She was even happier to realize that it was showing a 70's sitcom, not some creepy horror show.

“How are we sleeping?” Heidi asked. There were two double beds in the bedroom behind the kitchen/living room area where they were standing. In the outer room, the bed was a pull-out sofa.

“I'll take the bed out here, and you two can have the real beds,” Lauren said. She would have taken a hard wooden floor at that moment, she was so relieved just to be back in their cottage.

“You sure? You can bunk in with one of us,” Deanna offered.

“You snore when you drink,” Lauren said, grinning for real at last. “I'll be fine out here.”

“I do not snore!” Deanna protested.

“You do,” Heidi told her, grinning. “But only when you drink,” she added quickly.

“Hmph,” Deanna muttered, and started for the bedroom.

“I guess that means she's taking first dibs on the bathroom,” Heidi said, shrugging. “I'm getting into pajamas and crashing.” She gave Lauren a hug goodnight. “Thanks—this is the best trip, ever.”

“Absolutely,” Lauren agreed, wishing she could believe it was true.

She watched Heidi walk into the bedroom, too, then turned to open the sofa bed. It wasn't so bad. The closet offered plenty of extra bedding and pillows, and she could brush her teeth and wash her face in the half-bath next to the kitchen.

Clad in boxers and a T-shirt, she started to turn off the TV and the lights.

Then she hesitated.

She left the TV on, wanting the sounds of a sitcom to lure her to sleep. She left the bathroom light on, then turned off the others. When she was done, she found herself walking to the window that looked out onto the courtyard and pool.

She had intended to reassure herself. Instead, she felt a jolt of ice rip along her spinal cord.

There was someone out there.

A man.

Watching their cottage.

He was leaning against a utility pole out by the street, but, despite the high fence, she could see him, and she knew he was staring at the cottage.

What was worse was the fact that she knew who he was.

Tall, dark hair, piercing blue eyes.

It was the man she had crashed into at the bar.

A scream froze in her throat. But then, as if he knew he was being watched in return, he stepped away from the pole and walked away. She saw the breadth of his back for a few seconds, and then he was gone.

She realized a few seconds later that she had a death grip on the curtains, and that she was still staring out at the night, which now appeared completely calm and normal.

She bit her lower lip, wondering if she should call the police. And tell them what? That she had no evidence, but she was certain a man she had met in a bar had followed them home and stared at their cottage? Like that would be a pressing concern to men who had to deal with real problems, drugs, thugs and nasty drunks. But no matter what the police would think, she was sure that they had been…

Stalked.

She glanced toward the bedroom. The door was ajar and the room was quiet. Heidi and Deanna were probably sound asleep already.

All right, she would just call the police and ask if an officer could do a few drive-bys during the night.

They would undoubtedly think she was a jumpy freak. But better that than…

Determined, she walked over and closed the door to the bedroom. Then she did call the police, using the non-emergency number. A very polite officer took her information, assured her that she wasn't an idiot and promised that a car would check the property throughout the night.

When she hung up, she felt almost smug. She got a can of Coke from the refrigerator and curled her legs beneath her on the sofa-bed to watch TV.

But as she sat there, the cold from her soda seemed to seep into her bones. She couldn't help but replay the her fading memories of the strange scene in the fortune teller's tent. Now, alone in the dark, the details seemed to be coming back.

She had the strangest feeling that the evil being in the crystal ball had been real.

And that a dozen police officers couldn't stand against the soul—stealing danger that he presented.

She had seen him. Great. Now she would think he was stalking her.

He was still in shock himself. It was impossible for anyone to look so much like Katie, and yet…It was as if his fiancée had been cloned. Even her smile, the way she flushed slightly, the slight hike of her brow…all were simply Katie.

As he walk away from the B and B, he was all too aware the woman in question was probably still watching him from the window.

Then, to his surprise, he noticed that there was a light on over the door to the main house, and several lights still blazing inside.

He made a point of walking away, then doubling back. The curtain at the cottage had dropped. He was free and clear. He walked up the porch steps of the main house and tried the door. It was open.

“Hello?”

A long hall led back to a desk. He admired the main house as he walked in; it reminded him of the Cornstalk, another bed and breakfast, and one of the loveliest in New Orleans. A curved stairway led to the upper rooms, while the hall branched off toward several more. He knew that each one would be a little bit different. That was the beauty of such a place: nothing was cookie-cutter; every room would have something all its own.

“Hello!” a cheerful voice called from the end of the hall.

He walked on to the desk. A woman of about sixty, with shimmering silvery white hair, was sitting there. Papers were strewn before her, and a computer was on a table to her left.

“I saw the lights on,” Mark said.

“I suppose I should lock up and go to bed, but I've discovered that I love being an innkeeper,” she said. She had a great smile, dark eyes, and an aura of energy about her, even as she sat still. “I'm Lilly Martin. How do you do?”