Read Online Disconnection by Erin Samiloglu - Free Book Online Page B

hands clenched into fists at his side.
    Sela shook her head. She pointed behind her. “A man,” she began, “just grabbed me.”
    He craned his neck. “Where is he?”
    “Outside.”
    “Show me,” he ordered and followed Sela to the back door.
    “Right here.” Sela said as she forced the door open and pointed to where the man had grabbed her.
    There was no one there.
    Sela looked around the alley. It was empty. Under a sky that was now bright blue and a city that was dense with sound, the monster of a man had disappeared.

CHAPTER
11
     
    S ela turned sharply on Coliseum Street Row, spraying puddle water on the sidewalks in front of the historically famous shotgun-style houses as she drove past. When she reached the corner of First and Magazine Street, she turned again, passing one gigantic mansion after another, all of them beautiful, strong, dramatic, drooping with their own unique grandeur. Sela turned a left on Second Street, headed to Camp Street and finally, Prytania Street, home to Chloe Applegate.
    “Beautiful,” she whispered as she reached the address that Chloe had given her. The Applegate home was huge, perhaps one of the largest houses in the neighborhood. It was a neoclassical, two-story decorated in a medley of gray stucco and red brick. A porch stretched languidly for miles into the lush, emerald front yard, while tall Corinthian columns lined and dominated the front. Ivy climbed the forest green window shutters. Clusters of day lilies and impatiens, still thriving in what Louisiana’s endlessly warm weather, lined the sidewalk.
    The most interesting aspect of Chloe’s house was not the house itself but what was in front of it—a long line of cars along both sides of the street leading up to her driveway. BMWs and Mercedes and Porsches—vehicles perfect for the elite members of the Garden District Neighborhood Alliance. But what were they doing at Chloe’s house?
    Sela parked her car near the Applegate home just as Chloe’s cell phone rang. She reached in her purse and took out the phone.
    “Hello?”
    Sela heard the noises again. Soft, low-key, in harmony, marching into a distant plane beyond Sela’s imagination.
Like the cicadas’ hum
, Sela thought, only prettier, as if they were chiming inside sea shells at the bottom of the ocean.
    Then, as last time, it stopped suddenly, and Chloe was on the phone.
    “Are you there yet?” she asked. Her voice was so clear, it was as if she were sitting right next to Sela.
    “Yeah,” Sela replied. “I’m just outside. Looks like you’re having a party.”
    A long pause followed. “A party? No one is here but me.”
    Sela looked up at the house again with the cars out front, making sure she had the right place. “1000 Prytania Street, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, there are a lot of cars here.”
How sad
, Sela thought.
Chloe must be mentally challenged, the poor thing. How else could she think she was alone? There were more people inside her home than there were on Bourbon Street last night
.
    Chloe responded, “There’re not with me, I’m alone. It’s dark.”
    Sela cut the engine. “Okay. Come downstairs. I’ll meet you at the front door.”
    Sela pressed the “off” button and placed the phone in her purse. She glanced at the mirror, making sure she looked as presentable as one could look in a white shirt that said ‘Frank’s Diner’ in baby blue fabric. She pulled the rubber band out of her hair and shook her head back and forth. Brown tendrils fell along her face.
    She murmured, “Give the phone back to the poor girl and be done with her.”
    Sela opened the car door and stepped out. The air was still. The final roses of the season cast a dying fragrance into the day. Sela inhaled their scent as she walked up the steps of the house. She looked into the front window beside the door. Rich folk stood on the other side of the window, chatting in huddled circles, sipping tea from Wedgwood tea cups held within their impeccable