Apartment Seven Read Free Page B

thanks.”
    He leaned closer and I could smell cigar smoke mixed with the pungent stench of bad breath. “You don’t wanna be walking this neighborhood at night.”
    “I’ll be fine.”
    “Suit yourself.” He sat back and took another pull on his beer.
    Just as I put a tip down, Dewey rejoined us. “Leaving so soon?”
    “Afraid so. Goodnight.”
    “I’ll see ya again,” Cap said.
    I turned to leave. “You never know.”
    “I’ll see ya again.” This time he said it more emphatically, and he and the bartender exchanged knowing glances like they were sharing a joke I wasn’t in on. “Be careful out there, Charlie. And remember what the book says.”
    My coat pulled in tight around me, I gathered up my memories, threw open the door and slipped out into the night.

 
     
     
    -2-
    A block later, the neighborhood I found myself in was deserted and consisted mostly of rundown, out-of-business retail spots. Night had fallen while I was in the bar, and several of the streetlights here were not working, casting this and the next block in a deeper darkness than most of the city. As I stopped a moment and looked around to get my bearings, my cellphone rang. I checked the ID. Dino. He was my oldest friend, but until recently we hadn’t seen as much of each other as we used to. As I crossed to the next corner, I answered the call.
    “Hey, it’s me. Been calling you all day. You in town?”
    “Yeah, sorry, I—”
    “Where are you? I’ll come pick you up. Got some info for you.”
    I noticed a shadowy figure standing at the mouth of an alley on the opposite side of the street. In that moment, in this cramped little neighborhood, it occurred to me that we might as well have been the only two people left in the city. If something horrific happened in such a forgotten area, no one would hear my calls for help, or much care if they did. I kept moving. “Is it about Jenna?”
    “Yeah, you anywhere near Chinatown?”
    “Maybe five, six blocks out.”
    When I was a little closer to the alley, a match flared and I realized the man was lighting a cigarette. For a brief moment the flame illuminated enough of his face for me to make out a white, badly scarred cheek but not much else. The match died just as he’d come into focus, and the man was returned to darkness.
    “Meet me at Wok Me Right , just finishing up dinner there. My van’s out front, can’t miss it.”
    “See you there.”
    As I crossed the street and headed toward the intersection that would eventually lead me to Chinatown, I kept the phone to my ear and pretended the conversation with Dino was still taking place. For the first time, without feigning subtlety, I looked directly at the man in the alley. Although I could only make out the faint trace of a silhouette, I stared his way as if I could see him clearly, my expression neutral but firm.
    The man remained perfectly still, the cigarette down by his side, its glowing ember the only indication that someone was actually still there.
    They use the shadows.
    The moment I’d moved beyond the mouth of the alley, I heard the soft rumble of quiet laughter. But there was no joy in it, no humor. It was a mean, sadistic laugh, full of contempt and malevolence that sent a shiver through me.
    They’re everywhere, all around us .
    Returning the phone to my coat pocket, I quickened my pace.
    I did not look back.
    By the time I reached Chinatown, I felt like I’d returned to the world of the living. The city was bustling again, brightly lit and on the move, with plenty of people and cars on the street.
    Dino was already outside the restaurant, leaned against his van with his arms folded over his chest. Dressed in jeans, motorcycle boots, an old army jacket over a hooded gray sweatshirt and a Boston Bruins cap worn backwards, he looked like the aging tough guy he was. Still in fairly good shape, in recent years time had begun to catch up with him. His hair and goatee were specked with gray and the lines in his face