Part 14 (1/2)

”66S.”

”Ah,” the woman said. ”I already put in a complaint about your friend. Last week it was like a herd of elephants were dancing up there. I hope you don't mind my telling you. n.o.body does anything about anyone here, and I'm tired of it.”

2.

The smell in the building was like a pure blast of just-sprayed Lysol mixed with the undeniable warm bleachy odor of a nearby laundry room.

”This weather, can you get over it?” the woman said. ”I hope fall is nice. Fall is usually nice for about three weeks. I could use those three weeks about now. h.e.l.l, I could use three days. I can't stand winter and I can't stand summer. I should just live in one of those plastic bubbles.”

The elevator was small, and she helped the woman with her groceries as she shut the blue door so that the elevator's inner doors would shut properly. ”I don't want you thinking I normally call the super when anyone has a party. I don't mind that kind of thing,” the woman said. ”Parties or whatever. I mean, sometimes I feel like the people in 553 have a disco going on. It's just that this was pretty bad. I was trying to sleep. I work weekends and the noise was bad. Press five, would you?”

Julie pressed the b.u.t.tons for the fifth and sixth floors, and the elevator lurched, shook slightly, and then moved upward with a slight whine.

”Do you know the people in 66S?” Julie asked, hesitantly.

”This building is the unfriendliest in the city,” the woman said, with the kind of cadence that made Julie think she'd used this line before. ”I don't even know my next-door neighbors. But you know, sometimes that's a good thing. G.o.d knows I hear them enough. And someone on my hall has the yappiest dog alive. I love animals, but not that d.a.m.n dog.”

After the woman had stepped off the elevator, she turned slightly, smiling. ”I'm not saying your friends are bad. They just get noisy sometimes.”

”A herd of elephants,” Julie nodded. ”I'll tell them to take their shoes off next time.”

”Oh ha ha,” the woman laughed. The elevator door shut again. The woman's pale round face, her dark hair, were all that Julie could see in the round window of the outer elevator door.

Julie drew the keys out of her pocket, clutching them tightly.

At the sixth floor, she got out, fully expecting a long hall with many apartments, but instead, there were only six, 66S being the very last.

At the door, she pressed the key into the deadbolt, and it turned.

She drew the key out.

She hesitated a moment, and then rapped lightly on the door. Then, she pressed the bell.

She waited for what seemed an eternity before trying the other key on the k.n.o.b. It went in easily, and she turned it.

3.

She stood in the doorway.

The air conditioning in the apartment was on high, and chilly. She could see a foyer that was made up of closets on either side, and a narrow hallway. The apartment must be a fairly large one-that was her first impression. The walls were white and off-white. There was an unshaded window at the very end of the foyer, allowing a smattering of light through its cas.e.m.e.ntstyle windows.

”h.e.l.lo?” she asked.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She felt strangely comforted by the plastic bag with the book in it, beneath her arm. She felt as if she could just say that she thought it was someone else's place, if caught. She could say something like, ”I was given the keys-see? My husband gave them to me.” She felt her heart beating as if it were in her throat as she stepped across the floor. She took each step forward carefully, trying not to make a clicking sound with her sandals on the parquet.

When she got to the window, the apartment turned to the left, and beyond the wall that divided the foyer from the rest, it was enormous. It became a loft that seemed to be at least 2000 square feet or more, with exposed brick along one long wall, and a factory-like skylight above. It was oddly furnished-the lamps all seemed to be huddled at one end, while a broad leather sofa, love seat and two chairs were arranged alongside the far wall. The furnis.h.i.+ngs seemed years out of style, and pushed around as if intended for storage. Copper pots hung from the ceiling along the kitchen area, with a central marble island, and a bright rectangle of clean wall where the refrigerator should have been settled. There was a long butcher block table just under the enormous loft-length opaque window that was divided, factory-style, into several cas.e.m.e.nts. A paleness to the room, as if it had not been dusted-or entered-for a long time.

For just a second, she thought she heard a noise behind her, and she glanced back for a second in case the woman who owned the apartment had come home- what the h.e.l.l are you doing here, Julie? what the h.e.l.l are you doing here, Julie?-but there was no one. She turned back around the corner of the hall, to the foyer, but no one had entered.

”Someone's here,” she said aloud, as if it would make her feel safer.

What the h.e.l.l are you doing here, Julie?

It was not her voice, within her mind, saying this.

She couldn't identify it, but she had a sudden feeling as if someone nearby had whispered this.

What the h.e.l.l are you doing here, Julie?

And then she smelled something. Something that became overpowering-not just a smell. A stench. It was the smell she knew from childhood when a dead animal had lain in a ditch for days. Her mind flashed on the image from Matt's video of the dead dog in the road. It was growing-the smell was growing. She glanced at the walls of the apartment as if they held something threatening, as if she half expected to see b.l.o.o.d.y handprints.

Then she was sure she heard something move in the room beyond the living room. Someone was in the bedroom.

Something moved there.

She heard the tap, tap, tap of shoes on a floor. Someone was coming.

Her heartbeat seemed too noisy, as if it were not inside her at all, but outside of her body, a clock, ticking too fast.

The voice in her head grew louder, pounding within her mind: What the h.e.l.l are you doing here? What the h.e.l.l are you doing here?

She saw the shadow of the person, first, in the open doorway across the room.

Then, she saw: a man standing there, only something was wrong. Something was messed up about his eyes, because it was as if his face was a blur of movement.

4.

Julie took one step backward, then another.