“Ah, darn it!”
Fishing it out between her thumb and forefinger, she held the dripping phone up in the air. It was as dead as a dark night on stage.
“Argh.” She shuddered and carried it back to the sink where she rinsed and dried it before washing her hands.
At least Ivan was safe from the attacks, which meant she didn’t need Cain’s bodyguards, any longer.
She checked her watch. She had less than forty minutes to meet Henry. It would be quicker to walk to the restaurant than trying to make it there in traffic. Even going down to the parking would take an extra ten minutes. So would going back up to her office to use the phone. She hoped Cain had called Lann and told him the news. She didn’t want him to sit and wait for her all evening. She could always borrow Henry’s phone to call Cain from the restaurant.
She dried her hands and straightened her dress in the mirror before rushing out the main entrance. She opened her umbrella and pulled up her collar against the rain. Her heels weren’t practical for walking, especially not in this wet weather, but the traffic on the bridge was blocked, and she hated being late. Four blocks away from the theater, she turned toward the Thames and took the Waterloo Bridge that connected Covent Garden with Newington. The restaurant was not far from the Tate Modern. Luckily, she’d memorized the address.
After the museum, she turned right into an alley and left into another. The buildings around her, being mainly warehouses where the museum restoration work was done, were dark. A bolt of lightning made her jump. Global warming was definitely playing havoc with the planet. Rain blew in under her umbrella, covering her glasses with drops and obscuring her view. Not watching where she was going, she stepped into a puddle. Her heel hit a hole in the paving that made her stumble. She was lucky she hadn’t twisted an ankle. She bent her leg backward and studied her heel. It didn’t look as if much damage had been done.
“Bummer.”
A cold wind howled around the corner. She shivered and made her way forward again, eager for the dry interior of the restaurant.
The sound of a footstep rising above the rain made her pause. She glanced over her shoulder, but the alley was empty. She advanced another few steps. There it was again, the click of a heel. She twirled around to face only darkness and rain. A chill that had nothing to do with the cold ran down her spine.
Taking a few calming breaths, she continued on her journey. This time, the clacking was louder. Something about that click was familiar. The sound took her back to a childhood memory of wearing her mother’s shoes.
Oh, dear God.
The tempo of the clack increased. She pulled the lapels of her coat together and tightened her hold on the umbrella. An image of one red shoe lying at the bottom of the stairs flashed through her mind. She tried to shake it off, but the horrible feeling that rooted in her heart wouldn’t let her go.
She shouldn’t have left that night. Guilt consumed her with more force than ever. Hadn’t she put the event behind her? She’d promised herself she was over it all, but the truth was she’d left nothing behind. She’d only ignored it. That was why the emotion was back with full-blown intensity. She rushed on while the footstep behind her fell quicker.
Where the hell was that restaurant? She turned a corner and nearly tripped over a traffic cone. The sky was dark with the gloomy rain, and she was lost. She spun around to go back to where she’d come from, but the beating of that one, invisible shoe on the paving was coming straight at her.
She broke into a sprint, not caring that her heels were being ruined or that she might fall and break her neck. Her breath came in pants, and her heart hammered in her chest. A gush of wind blew rain into her face. She lowered her head to escape the onslaught. A terrible coldness invaded her body. It was as if someone, something, had touched her shoulder. Arching her back away from the sensation, she glanced over her shoulder. The alley was still empty. She rushed on and almost bumped into the dark figure of a man clutching an umbrella before she noticed him.
Her whole body jerked but not a sound escaped her lips as she stopped dead, almost losing her balance, again. The man paused, too, but before she could become even more alarmed, he said her name. She froze.
He took a step toward her. “Alice? Is that you?”
She dipped her head to see from over her wet glasses. She recognized that voice. “Zach?”