Living With the Dead (Otherworld 9)

A gun.

Her startled brain gave the command to drop it, but she stopped herself. With her luck, someone would find it and use it in a crime... with her prints all over it. Better to find a staff member and hand it in.

As she turned to go, a moan sounded behind her. The hairs on her neck rose. She squinted into the dark room. A pale figure lay crumpled on the floor.

"R-Rob?" Portia's voice was a papery whisper.

Robyn raced forward and dropped beside her, letting the gun clatter to the floor. Her gaze snagged on the dark stain spreading over Portia's blouse.

"Cell..." Portia whispered. "Cell phone..."

"Right." Robyn fumbled for her purse, digging out a handful of crap and dumping it before finding her cell. "I'm calling 911."

"No, my..."

Portia's voice trailed off in a rattle. Then she went still. Robyn shook Portia's shoulder. She didn't blink, just stared. Sightless. Lifeless.

Robyn lifted her phone, fingers trembling as she dialed 911. Then she remembered the figure running out the back door. Portia's killer had just left. Robyn might still be able to catch her, or at least get a better look at her.

The 911 dispatcher answered. As Robyn ran from the room, she quickly explained what had happened - that Portia Kane was shot, wasn't breathing and needed an ambulance. She gave the location as she raced out the exit door. It was shutting behind her when she heard a scream.

Outside the room where Portia lay, a server was looking straight at Robyn. Their eyes met. The girl screamed again, backpedaling, her hands flying up.

"No!" Robyn called. "I - "

She lunged to catch the door. It shut with a clang. She grabbed for the handle. There wasn't one - it was solid metal. She banged a couple of times, but she knew it was useless - that girl wasn't about to open the door to a presumed killer.

Robyn remembered her call. The dispatcher was gone. She started redialing, then stopped. She'd given everything they needed. The best thing she could do right now was keep going and try to catch a glimpse of Portia's killer. She could explain the misunderstanding later.

She took off down the alley.

Well, that hadn't worked out quite as she envisioned...

Robyn stood at the end of an alley, looking up and down a road packed bumper to bumper with taxis and limos, all jockeying for curb space to disgorge their celebrity passengers. The sidewalks were just as full with people jockeying for a look at those passengers. A hundred feet away, a flashing sign announced the opening of Silhouette, the newest "see-and-be-seen scene" in L.A.

She scanned the crowd. Not a single bloodstained psycho killer in sight.

She shook her head, stifling a laugh. Ridiculous to think she actually could have caught Portia's murderer. The woman had a good five-minute head start. Robyn wasn't even sure it had been a woman. Maybe a slender young man?

Still, she kept looking down the street. The killer had to have come out here. Robyn had followed the first alley to a second, which led to a service lane blocked by a truck. The only other route had been a third alley... the one that ended here, at this road.

She started stepping out, then stopped herself. Speaking of bloodstained potential killers

... Robyn's knees were red from kneeling beside Portia's body.

Portia's body.

Robyn took a deep breath. She hadn't always liked Portia, but there'd been something there, some spark of potential. If only she'd nurtured it, pushed for Portia to go to that charity event tonight instead.

If only she'd told Damon to stay the night in Pittsburgh instead of coming back so late...

Robyn took another deep breath. This wasn't about Damon. It was about Portia, and the best way she could help her was to get back to Bane and tell the police what she'd seen.

Robyn took her time going back. She wasn't looking forward to explaining why she'd left the scene. She imagined the officers rolling their eyes at the dumb blonde who'd raced off, trying to catch a killer. She'd had no intention of catching her - just catching a better look. But it still sounded a little foolish. Okay, a lot foolish. File under "seemed like a good idea at the time."

As she rounded the corner, she caught a flash of motion. A black-clad figure darted behind a Dumpster. Robyn froze and replayed her memory of the fleeing killer. A slender, light-haired figure in black pants and a dark shirt.

Robyn took a slow step backward. Then she stopped.