Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1)(51)

Caro stopped in front of a door in which all three of the brass numbers had fallen off, leaving the ghosts of six-zero-eight on it. She put a key in a knob lock.

“Are you kidding me? A f*cking knob lock.” His low voice was flat. “With neighbors like that.”

“I’m not worried about the locks,” she said. “Or Freddie. He’s harmless. Thanks for accompanying me, Noah. You’ve been very gallant.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed. “You only let me see this place because you’re leaving.”

Something must have flashed over her face, and of course, he caught it. The way he caught absolutely f*cking everything.

“Son of a bitch,” he murmured. “I nailed it. You’d never let me see this dump if you were staying. But what the hell. It doesn’t matter anymore, right?”

“Stop,” she said wearily. “It’s hard enough for me as it is.”

“So make it easier,” he urged. “Come home with me. I’ll make you a breakfast, and sit you down with a fresh cup of coffee. You can tell me everything. Please, Caro.”

“No.” Her voice was gaining strength.

“Then give me a few more minutes in your apartment. Just that. And I swear, I’ll go.”

“You said that before. You’re lying. You’ll just keep pushing.”

“Please, Caro,” he pleaded. “Please.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. He was just prolonging the pain. And this was so painful.

Fuck it. He could come in if he was so desperate.

She pushed open the door.





Chapter 15


Noah stepped in, and stopped on the threshold.

Caro murmured behind him for him to get out of her way. Finally, she shoved him forward, came in behind him and shut the door.

The place was a startling contrast to the squalor outside the door. The floor had been covered with roll-out straw floor mats. One wall was painted a sunny pale yellow, one a robin’s egg blue, one pink, one a spring green. Damaged plaster on two walls was decorated with leaves and branches folded from green and brown paper.

Two narrow windows were draped with cloth. The light shone through it on an array of crystal perfume bottles, pink-tinted prisms from a broken chandelier and colored glass wrapped in fine copper wire. What morning light there was refracted through all the glass and crystals, filling the room with shifting colors.

He saw a futon mat on the floor, a folded silver comforter and a pillow on it. A shelf held a hot plate and an electric teakettle, a plate, bowl, glass and cup. One fork, spoon and knife stuck out of a repurposed jar. There was a small sink with a sponge and bottle of dish soap. A shelf with a limited array of food on it. A hanging basket with a few pieces of fruit and a red sweet pepper.

The duffel thudded from his hand onto the floor. “Nice,” he said.

“Thanks.” She slipped off her shoes, set them by the door. “I fixed it up a little. Good for morale.”

“Looks great. Is this a no-shoes type of place?”

She gave him a stern look. “You won’t be here that long.”

Noah stepped out of his shoes and hung his jacket on a hook by the door.

“Make yourself at home.” Caro’s voice sounded weary.

“You know something?” He looked around again. “When I came up the stairs, and saw that corridor, I felt sorry for you. I was expecting to feel sorrier when I got inside. I figured it would be a dingy hole.”

She waited, arms folded. “I see. And?”

“I don’t feel sorry for you anymore,” he said simply. “This place says it all.”

Her eyebrow tilted. “Ah . . . OK. Is that a compliment?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded in acknowledgement. So she didn’t like praise, or even being noticed. “It’s pretty,” he said. “All you. But I hate that goddamn cheap lock. Your neighbors don’t thrill me, either.”

“Freddy’s not my problem,” she said.

The edge in her voice clued him in, and he looked at her face more carefully. “Meaning that somebody else is?”

She looked hunted. “I didn’t say that.”

“But I still heard it,” he said. “Who’s your problem, Caro?”

She waited a long time to answer. “Just a guy,” she said. “Following me. Can’t tell you any more than that. It’s happened twice. I don’t know who he is.”

“What did he look like?” Noah demanded.

A troubled look came into her eyes. “You might be about to find out, since you insisted on coming here with me. Check your rearview mirror when you leave. And be careful. Please.”

“If I still have a car.” He regretted the words the second he said them.

“I wish I had your problems,” she muttered.

“At least let me help you with this one thing. Tell me what he looks like.”

“Big,” she said. “Long dark hair. Ponytail. Hawk nose. Tattoo on his neck.”

He relaxed. Just Zade, being careless. “Could be a coincidence.”

She looked puzzled. “I doubt it.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open,” he said, trying to calm her. “You’re sure you’ll be OK?”