Read Online Shadowkiller by Wendy Corsi Staub - Free Book Online Page B

what’s so fascinating?” he asked, and she was confused—and embarrassed, wondering if he somehow knew what she’d been thinking.
    Then he pointed at the midtown skyline beyond the network of winter branches. “You were staring up there. Like you were looking at something interesting.”
    â€œI was just . . . um, noticing how pretty the buildings are at night, when the sun goes down and the lights go on.”
    â€œYou’re visiting, then? From out of town?”
    â€œWhat makes you say that?” She was disappointed. Irked, even. Was it the accent? She’d worked so hard to lose it before she ever left the Midwest.
    â€œIf you lived here,” the guy said, “you wouldn’t be taking the time to notice how the buildings look at night, or any other time. Most people just rush along looking down, not up, or around.”
    â€œActually, I do live here.”
    â€œReally?” He looked almost—pleased? Pleased to have been wrong?
    She tried to remember whether she’d ever been pleased about being wrong.
    Nope. Especially when the things she’d been wrong about in her life were often people she’d trusted. Like Daddy. Being wrong about him was the worst thing that ever happened to her.
    But she didn’t want to think about that right now. She wanted to think about the fact that this stranger was still standing here talking to her instead of pushing past her; that he was actually glad—for some reason—that she lived here after all.
    And she was glad that she was wearing her nicest suit, a slimming black one, and that she’d taken the time to brush her hair and put on lipstick before leaving the office, which she rarely bothered to do.
    Spring fever? Was that really what was wrong with her?
    You’d better get over it, fast. You can’t afford to forget why you’re here: to find Allison, and . . .
    And figure out what to say—what to do —when you’ve found her.
    â€œAre you coming from work?” the guy was asking. “On your way home?”
    â€œYes. How about you?”
    â€œComing from work, but I live in New Jersey and right now, I’m headed downtown. I’m meeting some buddies for drinks at McSorley’s.”
    â€œThat’s nice,” she murmured, wondering if her end of the conversation sounded as stiff as it felt on her tongue. She’d never been good at small talk with strangers. With anyone.
    â€œEh,” he said, and shrugged.
    â€œYou don’t like McSorley’s? Or your friends?”
    â€œI like them both, but not tonight.”
    She noticed something else about his eyes: there was a note of sadness in them. She wondered what was wrong. The question seemed much too forward, so instead, she asked, “Then why are you going?”
    â€œGood question. I really don’t want to.”
    â€œWhy do something you don’t want to do?”
    â€œDon’t you ever do anything you don’t want to do?”
    â€œNo. Not if I can help it. Can you help it?”
    â€œYeah—I guess I can.”
    Carrie shrugged. “Then don’t go.”
    â€œIt’s not that simple.”
    â€œIt is that simple.”
    He just looked at her for a minute. Then he sat beside her and reached into his pocket.
    She watched as he took out a pack of cigarettes, placed one between his lips, and offered the pack to her.
    Daddy had been a smoker. Personally, she could take or leave it.
    Tonight, she took it.
    After lighting her cigarette and then his own, he took a drag, exhaled, and said, “You’re right. I just changed my mind.”
    She inhaled smoke deeply into her lungs, exhaled, waited.
    â€œYou know what I’m going to do instead of meeting my friends?”
    â€œWhat?”
    Could there possibly be . . .
    Was there any way he was going to ask her to go have a drink with him or something?
    Are you kidding? There’s no way