The Lancaster Murderer

Luxury Suites, 12:30 PM

EPISODE XIII.

Grinding my teeth, I pause down the hall of Izayah's open door, running through my options. Izayah could've gotten here before me and accidentally left it open...if he wasn't so OCD about the order and sanitary atmosphere of his living space. And I know I didn't leave it ajar, which means someone is inside who wasn't welcomed. I could call for help, but who would I dial? I can't ask Izayah to come back me up without him figuring out I went to Dumois, I won't call Declan when he lied about his dad and sent crazy letters from London, and I'm not dragging Kat into all of this.

Looks like I'm flying solo on this one.

My forehead gash flares up at the thought of it, but I have no choice.

Balling my fists, I cross the threshold, fighting my terror and urge to flee. The usually cool temperature of the living room is higher, the AC chased out into the day. I'm only three steps inside when the hair on the back of my neck start to rise, my ears tuned in to absorb any rustling of clothes are the creak of wood beneath an intruding footstep. I never had much luck detecting when someone was going to get the jump on me, but that doesn't mean I'll stop trying to.

I should be by the kitchen bar when the door slams shut, plunging me into a darkness too abrupt to adjust to. The killer is inside, and now, I know exactly where they are. Whirling around, I make a dash for the hallway, trying to get to Izayah's room so I can lock it shut behind me.

Feminine laughter bubbles behind me, like I've just made the first play of a dangerous game. "You always act like I carry the plague when I show up, but once I'm here, I know you'll stick to me like glue...as always," the stranger leers, following my noisy departure deeper into the apartment. Safe inside Izayah's room, I lock the door and fumble for the light switch. Though once my fingers locate it, I pause. I'd rather us both be disadvantaged in the dark than advantaged in the light. Not to mention, if this woman gets inside, I'll hear the door open and have her location while I hide elsewhere in Izayah's room.

"Knock, knock," she purrs, rapping her knuckles on the door. "Did I scare the big, bad wolf?" Again, that laughter that chills me to the bone. Sighing, she adds, "You're really going to play hide-and-seek? We've all heard your name circulating around town, again. I'm here to help, Zay."

Who is the "we" she speaks of? And Zay? Who is this woman? And how did she get Izayah's address and break in? It sounds like she was waiting for him as some sort of prank, but I've never known Izayah as the type to tolerate that kind of childishness?

Or maybe I do, when I think of his demand for me purchasing him food, or his behavior at Lucas's party, or just last night when he put his head in my lap. Perhaps what I'm more reluctant to believe is that he can show those sides of himself to someone other than me.

"Nothing? Really? You haven't talked to us in a long time, but now you're not even going to speak to your girlfriend? The silent treatment isn't as funny, you know."

Girlfriend? Well, Izayah certainly hasn't been displaying very boyfriend behavior. I don't know when Izayah is going to be back, but if this is his girlfriend or someone who really wants to be, she won't like the idea of me staying here for the time being. And I don't like the idea of sticking around if they're a couple, too. The prospect of me, admittedly, somewhat being attracted to Izayah – only to realize he has eyes for someone else – isn't something I would like to come to terms with right in front of his face.

Making a rash decision, I whip out my phone and text the one person who won't make me feel like the world is going to crap because of this killer – someone I can use as a cover if Izayah catches on to my discomfort. Gaining my cool, I turn on the light, unlock the door, and great this near-mad woman.