The small part of my brain that insists Ralph isn’t a threat has fallen noticeably silent — especially when he takes another step forward, revenge in his eyes and dark promise in his reaching hands.
I open my mouth to scream even as my feet prepare to move, but it’s not my own voice I hear ringing out in the silent hallway.
“Gemma, dear, is that you?”
The voice, surprisingly strong despite the frailness of its owner, is accompanied by the welcome sound of the door on my right swinging wide open. Ralph freezes, his hands suspended limply in the air between us, and my eyes leap to Mrs. Hendrickson, who’s just appeared in the doorway. Her feet are stuffed into bedroom slippers, her gray hair is in pink rollers, and every inch of her skin covered with a paisley-patterned nightgown that drapes her from her neck to her toes. There’s a large, orange tabby cat cradled in her arms, purring so loudly I can hear him from five feet away.
I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my life.
“Mrs. Hendrickson,” I breathe, my voice audibly relieved as my eyes move back to Ralph. He’s still glaring at me, but he’s taken a few steps back, widening the space between us. I don’t look away from him as I speak to the old woman. “I’m so sorry, did we wake you?”
In truth, I’m not even a little bit sorry.
“Oh, no, me and Bigelow were just sitting at the window, doing a little peeping,” she informs me shamelessly, clearly not registering the tense atmosphere in the hallway. “Did you know, the man and his wife in the building next door are thinking about getting a cat? Bigelow would like that. He likes to sit at the window when the sun’s out, it would give him something to look at during the day.”
I nod, my eyes still locked on Ralph’s. “That would be very nice, Mrs. Hendrickson.” I swallow. “I have to be going, now, but will you do me a favor?”
“Of course, Gemma dear. What is it?”
“This hallway is a bit spooky at night. Would you mind watching to make sure I get to the door all right?”
The old woman is silent for a long moment, and when I glance back in her direction, I see she’s finally registered the friction humming in the air. Her gaze moves from me to Ralph in a measuring study and, after a few seconds, awareness seeps into her soft blue eyes. They narrow on Ralph in a menacing stare that’s pretty impressive, for an octogenarian. For anyone, really.
He takes another step back.
“Do you want to come in for a cup of tea, dear?” she asks me, her eyes locked on Ralph. “We’d be happy for the company, wouldn’t we, Bigelow?” Her hand strokes the cat’s fur, and he emits a purr so loud, I think the air around his body actually vibrates.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hendrickson, I can’t tonight.” I make sure to look at Ralph when I say the next part. “I have people expecting me. They’ll worry if I don’t show up.”
Sure, it’s a lie, but he doesn’t know that.
“Okay, but you’ll come see me soon, right, Gemma dear?” Mrs. Hendrickson smiles at me. “If you don’t, well, I’ll just have to track you down myself. Have you ever met my grandson, Bobby?”
I shake my head at her seemingly random question.
“He’s a fine young man. A police officer.” Her smile widens, and her tone is lighter than air as she looks back at Ralph. “Isn’t that great? I’m sure he could track you down if I can’t, Gemma dear. In fact, I’m sure he can track down just aboutanyone.”
For the first time, I smile. The old lady has biggercojonesthan Ralph, and better threats.
“He sounds great, Mrs. Hendrickson,” I say, reaching out to scratch Bigelow behind the ear. “Thanks.”
“Don’t forget to visit,” she reminds me, as I start to back down the hallway, toward the exit.
“I won’t.”
I glance back at Ralph and see the scowl hasn’t shifted off his face but his eyes are now resigned, rather than furious, and I know he’s given up. For now, at least.
I keep my eyes on him as I move away, forcing my face into a composed mask. I don’t let it slip, even when I reach the door and Ralph mouths something at me that makes every fine hair on my body stand on end.
This isn’t over.
With a final glare, he rounds the corner and disappears.
My eyes move to Mrs. Hendrickson, still standing guard in her doorway. She winks at me and, ignoring the shivers Ralph’s threat prompted, I manage a smile before pushing through the exit, my feet poised to run for the car.
Out of the frying pan, into the freaking fire.
***