chapter Seven
“Nadine.”
I turned and found Cheryl crossing the street to where I stood on the sidewalk outside the university café.
“Nad, how are you?”
“Good, I think,” I mumbled, unsure of what to say. I glanced at my watch. I had six minutes before my shift started.
“You know, I was thinking about what happened at the bookstore that other day. You never explained to me what that was,” she said, then hesitated, probably expecting I would snap at her and not elaborate. Cheryl had seen me tune out a few times, and I always pretended nothing happened. “Should I be worried?”
“It’s nothing.” I forced a smile. “You don’t need to worry about these episodes. Probably low blood sugar.”
“Come on.” Cheryl placed a hand on my back and pushed me into the café. Inside, she sat at her usual spot. “Tell me the truth, how are you?”
“I’m fine.” I stepped toward the door that led to the back.
“Nadine,” Cheryl called after me.
I guess after years as a therapist, Cheryl had learned a few tricks about how to know when someone was lying.
I took a deep breath before turning back to glance at her.
“About your episode, I may know someone who can help. I have his card right here.” She opened her purse and rummaged through the contents.
I shook my head. “It’s nothing, Cheryl. Don’t worry. I don’t need any help.”
She extended the card. “Just take it, in case you change your mind.”
I pushed it away and gave her my back, ashamed for not being able to break through whatever held me back and trust my friend.
My gaze ended up outside the café where a large black raven perched on a tree branch. It had a scar over one eye. With goose bumps running up my spine, I ran to the back of the café.
***
For the fourth consecutive day, I visited NYU’s north gate before the start of my classes, hoping the feeling would come back. Nothing. I dared to cross the street the last two times, but that had not helped either. Perhaps that weird tug inside me hadn’t meant anything.
I was about to head back inside the campus when a taxi passed me with a number painted on its side: 816. The light radiating from the number eight was strong and pure.
I approached the guard at the gate. “Do you see anything unusual about that cab? On its number?” I asked, pointing toward the passing taxi.
Jim, the same guard who saw me speak with Micah the other day, shook his head. “No, ma’am. What should I see?”
“Nothing,” I answered quickly. “I think my eyes are tired.”
Should I give in and admit I was hallucinating? I could always open up to Cheryl and accept the card she offered the other day.
Focused on my dilemma, I walked on, not paying attention to anything. The sudden sound of cawing startled me. I fought against the urge to look up. I didn’t want to see the raven. I didn’t want to think it was following me. I told myself it was a harmless black bird, lost and hungry.
I didn’t realize I had been running until I entered the building and rested against a wall, wheezing and shaking.
“Did you see a ghost?” Micah’s voice startled me.
“What are you doing here?” The hallway was crowded and many students stared at me. I tried to compose myself as the girls gawked at Micah and glared at me.
He leaned on the wall, hands inside his leather jacket. His face was a mask with a sly grin, but his black eyes seemed pained.
“Just came to say hi.”
“Hi,” I snapped. “Now bye.” I walked past him, not wanting to give him a chance to ruin my day. The other two times I had talked to him, he made me forget about everything else. About Victor. I couldn’t allow his charm to take me over so easily.
“Hey.” Micah grabbed my arm and pulled me back until I was right before him. “Why the rush?” he asked, his delicious vanilla and sandalwood scent washing over me.
The endless black pools of his pupils met me.
“I have class,” I breathed, feeling dizzy.
“I’ll let you go.” He released my arm, but then extended his hand. “But could you hold my hand first?”
I stared at his hand. “Why?” I looked up, and the pain I thought I saw in his eyes grew clear.
“Please,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
“All right.” I didn’t know what holding his hand would do, but I wouldn’t be a brat if he was in pain.
As I was about to take his hand in mine, getting ready to feel the shock that came with it, Raisa showed up beside me.
“Nad, you didn’t introduce me to your friend,” she said, flipping her hair and smiling like a model. With anguished eyes, he glanced at me and let his hand fall to his side. “So?” She bumped her shoulder against mine.
“Raisa, Micah.” I beckoned from her to him. “Micah, this is Raisa, my roommate.” Our moment already forgotten, he turned toward Raisa with a wide and perfect smile.
Raisa let out a dreamy sigh the moment he shook her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Raisa.”
“Nice to meet you too.” She giggled. “How come I’ve never seen you before?”
“I’m new in town.” It seemed he had pressed a button that was labeled “pain off, charm on.”
I intruded before Raisa let her boldness take over and invited him out. For some reason, I was afraid of hearing Micah’s answer to her request. “We should be going or we’ll be late.” I pushed her, trying to pry her from the gorgeous Israeli model standing before us.
“Bye, Micah,” Raisa said in a singsong tone. I kept pushing her down the hall.
“Bye, girls.” I didn’t bother turning around to look at him.
“What a hunk,” she exclaimed once we were inside the classroom. “How come you never told me about him?”
I rolled my eyes as I took my usual seat in the back. “I just met him.”
“Yeah, and? Come on! No girl would meet a guy like him and not report to her best girlfriend.”
That was the thing Raisa didn’t understand. She was a good friend, but I wasn’t sure I had any best friends. I didn’t feel comfortable talking about my classes, my grades, or my family, and I certainly didn’t like to gossip and get together to talk about hot guys—or to confess about my visions. I just wanted to be alone with my visions of Victor. Besides, if she knew how crazy I was, she wouldn’t want me to be her best friend.
Raisa’s friends came into the classroom and ran to us, huge smiles wreathing their faces.
“You guys won’t believe who we saw yesterday,” Martha said, taking her seat beside Raisa.
“Who?” Raisa asked.
“The blond guy from the club.” Martha clapped her hands together.
“Folks,” the instructor called. He waited until the class settled, then spoke in a somber tone. “The university has been informed of some disturbing news, and students will be dismissed from school for today.” General ovation took over, but with raised hands, the instructor managed to shut everyone up. “This isn’t for fun, people. Early this morning, the body of a student was found outside campus, near Madison Square. It seems the girl was assaulted, raped, and then killed.”
Like me, the whole class gasped. My stomach hurt as if I’d been punched.
Someone asked, “What’s her name?”
“I think most of you knew her.” The instructor swallowed hard. “The victim was Sarah Cunnings.”
Oh my God. Nausea swirled in my stomach. Sarah had been in most of my classes since I started NYU.
More students asked questions, including where she’d been found and when and where her funeral would be. I seemed to have lost my voice.
The professor continued talking about Sarah’s death and her family’s arrangements for her funeral.
“That’s it,” he finished. “You may go now. And be careful.”
He left, followed by my classmates, who exited silently.
I remained glued to the chair for a few seconds longer, trying to make sense of the news.
In my backpack, my cell phone vibrated. Shaking off the awful images in my mind, I picked it up, answered the call, and listened to the message.
“Who was it?” Raisa asked from behind me. I hadn’t registered she’d stayed.
“The hospital. They lost my curriculum and want me to go there and give them a new copy.”
“What time does your shift start?”
I was still baffled, my mind moving in slow motion. It took me a moment to think it through, to figure out what time it was now and what time my shift started.
“After this class.” I looked at my wristwatch again. “In about forty minutes.”
“So you’re going to the hospital right now?”
“I think so.”
“I’m going with you.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Are you kidding? After what happened to Sarah? I’m not leaving you alone.”
I flinched. I had forgotten about Sarah. I felt sick. “Guess my mind is somewhere else.”
“I’ll go, but we have to get a cab.”
The cab left us right at Langone’s main door.
“It won’t take long, right?” Raisa asked, crossing her arms. I did the same, wishing I had a thicker jacket. “Your shift starts soon.”
“I know.”
For some reason, my head snapped to the right, just as a silver car drove around a corner. It approached the hospital and advanced toward the garage, right beside the hospital’s main door. When the car was close enough, I realized it was a gray Audi A3.
I froze. It couldn’t be.
The vehicle cruised to the garage’s entrance. Its dark windows prevented me from seeing the driver. Paralyzed, I watched it proceed to the end of the first level—where there were a few empty spots—and park near an employee-only entrance.
The driver opened the door and stepped out.
My breath caught in my throat. My heart skipped a few precious beats. Raisa stood beside me and I clutched her arm, steadying my wobbling knees.
“Hey! That’s the guy I told you about,” she said. “The one at the club last week. Martha and Susan told me his name. It’s—”
“Victor.”