Serial

Chapter Four

Maybe he just hadn't gotten around to killing me. I ran the possible explanation over and over in my mind. If Agent Landon thought this was at all comforting, he was sorely mistaken. In fact, it did nothing to settle my darkening thoughts.

And of course, it was at this exact moment that they decided to leave my apartment. I'd wanted them to go practically from the start, yet here they were, ditching me only after they'd delivered this terrifying theory.

"We'll be in touch if we have any additional questions, Miss Bryant," Agent Landon said suddenly, scooping up his classified files and heading toward the door.

"But—"

He was gone before I could get the rest out.

I turned to the younger agent. He seemed less anxious to leave, and as he reached the entryway, he turned back around to study me. Then, as if by magic, he produced a rectangular business card with his name and number on it, and slipped it into my hand. Again, I welcomed the heat from his fingertips.

"If you need anything, feel free to contact me," he said. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Start locking your doors, okay?"

And with one last grim smile, he followed his partner out into the courtyard.

I fixed on the back of their suits as they walked away. Once they'd disappeared, I closed my door, leaning back against the wood exhausted. Then, doing as Agent Walker suggested, I locked myself inside.

*          *          *          *

I was already at the barre stretching when Zhara showed up to class the next morning. Kicking off his shoes and dropping his dance bag onto the floor near our bench, he rushed over and stood right in front of me until I acknowledged his presence.

"Well, aren't you unusually peppy for having had a night out," I said, as I pointed and flexed my toes to an unheard beat.

"And you're here early despite having company over last night," he retorted, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "So, I guess we're both acting a little out of character, aren't we?"

Turning away from him, I lifted my other leg and set it down gracefully onto the barre before continuing my warm-ups. The truth was, I'd been stretched out for ages now. Since dawn actually, when I'd finally admitted to myself that I wasn't going to get any sleep, and had gotten up for the day.

But right now I was looking for any excuse not to be reminded of the night before. I just wanted to get back to my regularly scheduled life. The one where I wasn't a part of a murder investigation.

Zhara, it seemed, had other plans.

"Uh-uh," he said, gliding around to my other side. "Don't even try to play me like that, girl. Spill. Now."

I groaned as I looked around the room. Half the class was already there and the closest dancer was only feet away. I had no desire to get into this here and even less desire to have the others listening in. What would people think if they knew?

"Can we talk about this later?" I asked, hopefully.

"If you're worried about the others finding out, it's too late. The hens already be squawking," he replied. Crossing his arms over his puffed-up chest, he managed to pout even as he folded his body at the waist to stretch. Just because Zhara wanted to talk, it didn't mean he wanted to get in trouble with our teachers over it. "Look, I'm not mad at you for pulling some game. But I am mad that I had to find out from Scarlett the Harlot."