Page 47 of Dead Girl Running

A woman’s voice said, “Kellen, you’re back. It’s Brenda. Thank God. Let me in.”

Terrified, Cecilia stared at the door, open at two inches.

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone? Why haven’t you called me? Darling, I know what happened.”

Darling? This was Kellen’s lover.

“I know you. You loved your little cousin. You always protected her. I’m sorry she died.”

Cecilia pushed the throw aside.

The person at the door must have heard, for her voice grew more urgent. “Kellen, please! I know we fought, but I love you. You said you loved me. Darling? Talk to me.”

Moving as quietly as she could, Cecilia sat up. She didn’t know what to do. She hated for this woman to think Kellen was ending the relationship. But what would happen if she knew the truth? Brenda would be grief-stricken. She would tell someone and give away Cecilia’s hiding place. Cecilia would be drawn into the investigation. She would have to confess her own weakness.

Brenda shoved at the door. The chains rattled. The bars held. “Kellen, are you hurt? Do you need help? Please! I’m afraid for you. I’m going to call the cops!”

“No!”

“Kellen?”

Cecilia had to speak. “No. I’m fine. Go away. Go…away.”

The awful silence from outside the door stretched out for long seconds.

Cecilia held her breath. Had Brenda recognized the differences in their voices? Was Brenda going to call the police?

“All right, then!” Brenda’s voice was both tearful and furious. “I’m leaving. I supported you through your coming out. You used me—now you don’t want me. I won’t be back. Damn you, you bitch. You’ll never find anyone else who will love you as much as I do. I hope you die alone.” She slammed the door as hard as she could, a muffled thud accompanied by clanking chains.

Cecilia ran over to the window and looked out, watching the sidewalk, hoping to catch a glimpse of Kellen’s lover.

A beautiful black woman came out of the building and walked away, wiping her eyes on her shirttail.

My God. Kellen had gone home, admitted she was gay and in love with an African American. She was not just gay; she loved across racial bounds. Cecilia’s aunt and uncle were prejudiced against any person of color, and Cecilia’s admiration for her cousin’s courage rose—and her own cowardice broke her. Cecilia sank back onto the couch, pulled the throw over her head and wallowed in guilt and darkness.

The darkness was growing…

* * *

Kellen woke.

She was still in her clothes in the chair beside the bed, tense, sweaty, cold and cramped beneath the patterned throw.

The darkness wasnotgrowing. In fact, the room’s automatic night-light provided enough illumination to see the outlines of the furniture and walls. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, checked for internet, and when she saw it pop up, she sighed in relief. She stretched her stiff muscles. In the daytime, the window looked away from the resort and the cottages and toward the dock and the Pacific Ocean. Now, on this rainy, moonless night, she saw nothing. Nothing.

Then one single bright light shone in the dark. A flashlight? A lantern?

It blinked off.

She blinked, too. Was that the remnant of a nightmare?

No, someone was out there. Lost? Alone?Looking for the body they had lost?She flipped off the night-light and moved through utter darkness toward the window.

The light outside came on again and swung in a circle on the ground, then up in the air.

Kellen stepped back to avoid being spotted.

Ridiculous, but automatic.

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