Another nod.
Then the woman mouthed something. Jo shook her head, unable to make out what she'd said. She stepped closer, trying to get a better look at her face. Shadows from the balcony above played across her lovely face, making it hard for Jo to see her clearly.
"Say it again."
The woman mouthed the words again, and when Jo shook her head, still not making out what she said.
"I'm sorry. I can't see you well. Can you step into the light?"
The woman shook her head, and Jo wondered why not. Why did she have to cling to the shadows?
Loud laughter and voices drew Jo's attention away from the woman. A group of drunken revelers weaved down the sidewalk toward them. Jo moved out of the way, giving them plenty of space to pass as their impaired motor skills were making it hard for them to navigate.
When they finally weaved and cackled their way to the next block, Jo turned back to the woman.
She was gone.
"Hello?" Jo called, searching the shadows for her. "Hello?"
She looked, seeing nothing. No hint the woman had ever been there. Just as before.
She walked to the corner of St. Ann and Royal, which was the only direction she could have gone in. Otherwise she would have had to pass Jo. But Jo saw no one who looked like the woman on the streets.
She debated, then paced back to Ren's. No sign of her at all.
Then Jo heard a noise and looked up. Erika's cat sat up on the courtyard wall, peering down at her with pale eyes that flashed iridescently in the streetlight.
Jo stared at the cat. The cat stared back, those glittering eyes familiar, and the strangest notion entered her mind.
No. She was being crazy. Yet again. How could she even consider something so outlandish?
She tugged her purse up higher on her shoulder and started walking briskly in the direction of Royal.
She laughed out loud at her train of thought, realizing she probably looked and sounded like a madwoman. Not that her behavior would even merit a second glance in the Quarter.
But she felt like she might be going mad. In fact, given the events of the whole week, the chances were pretty high.
Was she really entertaining the idea that the strange mute woman and Erika's cat were one and the same?
She hastened her steps as if she could outrun the preposterous and frankly disturbing idea.
CHAPTER 17
Jo was relieved when she made it home without any more sightings of disappearing mute women—who could potentially be cats. Or little dead girls in rainbow-striped bathing suits. Or anything else that might be perceived as disturbingly weird. And that signified her fall into the abyss of insanity.
She bolted her door, then rooted around in her purse for her cell. She dialed Maggie's number, waiting only two rings before her friend answered.
"You made it?"
"Yes," Jo said, trying to sound normal. God, she was feeling anything but.
"Good. Listen, Jo, I'm sorry if we sounded critical about Maksim. I think it's great that he's been a help."
Jo nodded, then realized Maggie couldn't tell that over the phone. "Thank you, Maggie."
"And I want you to know you can tell me anything. Erika, too."
"I know," Jo said, believing her friend. But still none of the truths of her life in the past few months came to her lips. Why? What held her back?
Maggie would understand her pain over Jackson's betrayal. Maggie had been badly hurt by a man before meeting Ren. If anyone would know how Jo felt, it would be her.
And Erika always believed in the ability to tell the future. She loved going to psychics. She'd believe Jo's story about her sister and the long-ago-experienced premonition. She'd probably even believe her about what she'd thought she'd seen.
Yet, no words came. Why? Why?
Despite her questioning, she knew the answer. If she told her dear friends, then everything would be real. She couldn't deny it any longer. And she wasn't ready for the truth. About anything. She wanted to hide—to let all those things stay in her past.
But they can't. Not now. Not with what was happening.
"You'll talk to us when you are ready, right?"
Jo blinked, almost forgetting Maggie was still on the end of the line. How long had she been silent?
"Yes," Jo said. "Thanks."
Jo said good-bye and hung up. She set her phone on the kitchen counter, then looked around, not quite certain what to do next.
She glanced at her phone, tempted to call Maksim. But instead, she shook her head. As if she didn't have enough going on. She didn't need to add him to the mix.
Sighing, she headed to her bedroom. Tonight, she would crawl into bed early. Maybe read. Do something calm and normal and relaxing.
She changed into a pair of baggy men's-style pajamas, then crawled into her bed. She grabbed a novel from the top of a pile she had on her nightstand. Books she'd been meaning to read, but hadn't had time.
Dead By Dawn. That didn't sound like a story that would calm her overactive imagination. She grabbed another one. Mansfield Park by Jane Austen. One of the few Austen books she hadn't read yet. Getting lost in the social webs of the Regency era seemed like a good fit for her mood.
She'd let herself get involved in other people's deceptions and missteps in propriety. Flipping open the book, she read the first line…
Oh, yeah, this would work. She was immediately drawn into someone else's drama. Good.
A crash woke Jo. She sat up in her bed. The lamp still cast warm yellow light around her room. Blackness still colored her windows.
She must have fallen asleep reading. She looked around the bedding, discovering the book had fallen to the floor.
She sank back against her pillows. That was all that woke her. Her eyes drifted closed again, and she told herself she would turn off her lamp. In a minute.
Sleepy. She was so sleepy.
Then she heard another noise. The sound faint, just barely seeping into her fatigue-hazed mind. But then the sound came into clear focus. A sound she knew and had heard before.
Her eyes opened as she listened. The noise hadn't come from within her room. At least she didn't think so. It seemed like it must have come from the hallway.
She didn't move, keeping absolutely still, waiting. Telling herself she wouldn't hear it again. That she'd imagined it.
But there the noise was again. Faint, but there.
Fear rose up in her chest, burning the back of her throat. But she didn't stir, paralyzed with her own dread.
Go away. Go away.
Then she heard it again, closer this time. The sound from the restroom, the sound from the hallway at the community center. Pattering feet. Small feet. But more than that, she now knew what made the sound so distinct.
They weren't just small, bare feet on hard wood. They were wet feet. The watery pattering echoing from in the hallway. The sound made more distinct by that slap of wetness on a hard surface.
Jo swallowed, only her eyes shifting toward her doorway. From her angle on the bed, she could only make out the dim light from the kitchen. But the hint of light didn't make the situation less frightening.
Jo didn't want to see the moving shadows of what was coming in her direction on small wet feet. She didn't want to see it. Her.
She closed her eyes, digging her fingers into her comforter, tugging the material up to her chin. She was acting like a terrified child, but she didn't care. She was terrified.
The steps stopped.
Jo remained quiet, except for the occasional shaky, shallow release of her own breath. Minutes ticked by, or at least it felt that way. Still no sound.
Finally, Jo peeked an eye open. Her room was quiet, empty. She loosened her grip on her bedding and opened her eyes fully. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Her dresser stood against the far wall. A chintz chair in pale yellow sat in the corner, its matching pillow angled against the back.