She speeded up, circling the landing.
The footsteps accelerated, too.
Was someone playing games with her?
No. Couldn’t be. She was in a public building, not some haunted house from a horror flick. Even though it was late, she could open the door on any floor and rejoin civilization. She stopped in her tracks.
Above her, the footfalls stopped.
Her breathing rasped in her ears. “Who’s there?”
Her question echoed against concrete walls.
No answer.
“Is anyone there?”
Again, nothing.
Sylvie looked back at the door, several steps above. What kind of a person would try to attack someone in a public building? Just a few steps away from help?
Whoever had taken Diana from her own wedding, that’s who.
Sylvie looked down the stairwell. Reaching the next floor was her best bet. Once there, she could find help. Whoever was following wouldn’t dare attack her in a hallway bustling with people.
Taking a deep breath, she launched into a run. Her shoes clattered on concrete. She reached the mid-floor landing. Gripping the handrail, she whipped around the turn and headed down the next staircase.
Footsteps drummed above her. Faster. Keeping time.
Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod.
Sylvie hit the landing and grabbed for the doorknob. She yanked the door open and lunged out of the stairwell.
And into silent dusty darkness.
Sylvie willed her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. In the red glow of the exit sign above the stairwell door, she could see a hallway set up identically to the ICU floor, a short hallway splitting off the main one, the bank of elevators. But that’s where the similarities ended. The level she was on was a mess. Giant power tools cluttered the space, each a hulking shape in the darkness. Dust shrouded the tile floor, slick under her shoes.
The floor was closed for remodeling. And being a weekend night, there wasn’t a soul around.
Her throat constricted, making it hard to catch her breath. She had to get off this floor. She had to find people, to find Bryce.
But the first thing she had to do was to hide.
She dashed to one side of the hall, ducking behind one hulking obstacle, then another. A pallet of tile. An oversize trash bin. When she reached what appeared to be some kind of table saw, she heard the door of the stairwell open.
Sylvie crouched behind the saw. She didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare breathe. She thought she was going to be sick.
The door closed with a thud. Soft footsteps scraped across the floor.
She peeked around the table saw, trying to get a look at who was walking toward her. But she could see nothing but more hulking shapes, more red-tinged darkness.
One more step.
Another.
A construction area had to have tools lying about. Didn’t it? If she could find something, anything, she could use as a weapon…
Sylvie groped along the dusty floor with one hand. Her fingers hit slick plastic. A section of PVC pipe. Not anywhere near heavy enough to cause damage, but at least it was something. She wrapped clammy fingers around the pipe.
And waited.
Footsteps scraped closer.
A drop of sweat trickled over her temple. Dust tickled her nose and clogged her throat. She held her breath.
The footsteps halted on the other side of the saw. A hulking figure silhouetted against the red glow. The outline of a man. He was not too tall, but his broad shoulders suggested strength.
Much more strength than she could overpower with a piece of plastic pipe.
Sylvie listened to his breathing, trying to sense the direction of his gaze. An eternity ticked by. Her lungs screamed for air. Her sinuses burned with the need to sneeze.
Finally, he pivoted and walked back the way he’d come. The door to the stairwell squeaked open and then slammed with a bang.
A tremble seized Sylvie’s chest. She sagged forward, bracing herself on the saw. Slowly she convinced her fingers to release the pipe, setting it quietly on the floor. But other than that, she didn’t dare move.
After a few more minutes she peered around the equipment she was hiding behind. She still could see nothing in the exit sign’s light but the tile palettes and various tools, but she was pretty sure she was alone. She waited a minute longer, maybe two, just to be sure.
When she finally stood, her legs tingled and stung as blood rushed back into them. Stifling a sneeze, she looked down the dusty hall. There had to be another exit, didn’t there? Another stairwell? She didn’t dare try the one he’d left through.
She stumbled down the dark hallway, rounded the corner, and spotted another red exit sign, glowing like a beacon. Slipping into the stairwell, she raced down the steps to the lobby level.
The light music of human voices greeted her. She pushed through the door, sprinted to the lobby, and spotted Bryce.
“Where have you been?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Her knees wobbled.
“What happened?”
She told him.
“Are you hurt?” Bryce looked down at her hands.
Sylvie followed his gaze. Her palms and the knees of her jeans were covered in dust and grit. “No, no, just dirt. I’m okay.”
“Did you get a look at him?”
“Not really. It was dark, but…”
“But what?”
“It wasn’t Louis Ingersoll. The man I saw was bigger. Not as tall as you, but broad. Strong.”
“Why didn’t you stay in the ICU?”
“What do you mean?”
“I went up there. You’d left.”
“You called the nurses’ station. You told me to meet you down here.”
He opened his mouth, a stricken look on his face. “I didn’t.”
“Then who did?”
“Walker?” a gruff voice said from behind them.
Sylvie and Bryce both jumped. Stepping out of Bryce’s grip, Sylvie turned and looked into Detective Perreth’s bulldog face.
Bryce stepped toward him. “About time you checked your voicemail.”
“Voicemail?”
“I left you half a dozen messages. You didn’t get the calls?”
“I haven’t had time to check my phone.”
“Then why are you here?”
Perreth’s eyes shifted to Sylvie. “I need you to come with me.”
Bryce stepped between her and Perreth. “As her attorney...”
“You can come along. Fine. Whatever you want.” The detective swung his focus to Sylvie. His gaze looked so flat, so dispassionate, it made her shiver. “We need your help to identify a body.”
Sylvie stared at him. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was. He couldn’t. “Diana?”
“That’s what we need to find out. Come with me.” Perreth led them into a small family waiting room and gestured to a group of chairs. “Have a seat.”
Sylvie remained on her feet. Even the thought of sitting, of allowing her body to be so passive, smacked of giving up. She couldn’t believe Diana was dead. The buzz in her ears that had become her constant companion the past few hours was still going strong. Wouldn’t that have changed if her sister was dead? Wouldn’t she feel nothing?
Bryce stood next to her. She could feel him watching her, but he didn’t speak. It was as if he sensed she couldn’t handle kind words right now. As if he understood nothing could possibly soothe her.
“When can I see her?” she asked Perreth.
“First things first, Ms. Hayes. Really, why don’t you take a seat?”
“I don’t want to take a seat. I want to see her.”
“Seeing her won’t do any good.”