Page 21 of Stalked By Shadows
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Micah said. He packed up the bag and handed Lukas the scrubs before tugging me out of the bathroom. Lukas went to find us a ride home. Sky had vanished somewhere. I hope she got home safely too.
“I’m okay going home,” I told Micah. “I don’t want to be a burden to you.”
He studied me for a minute while we waited in the lobby area of the police station. Since it was almost midnight, it was pretty quiet, even though it was a full moon. “If it’s okay with you, I’d rather not be alone tonight.”
It took me a few seconds to catch up. But I realized in that moment that while I hadn’t seen the body, Micah had. And he hadn’t spent a few years in the military trying to desensitize himself to corpses. He looked tired, and gripped my arm tightly. He had also protected me from the police and likely been interrogated like I had. And still he stood in front of me looking calm and collected. Was it all a front?
“Sure,” I said instantly, wanting to take care of him if I could. At the very least I owed him, though in reality I would have taken care of him anyway. It was instinct, and all my supposed “white knight” buttons were pushed with him, even if he really didn’t come across as any sort of victim. “Kind of a crazy night, right? Probably more so than your norm.”
He gave me a tight smile. “Yes. Muchcrazierthan my normal evening.”
Lukas pointed a duo of cops in our direction. They headed our way. “Looks like our ride.” I offered Micah my hand. He took it and gripped it, then let out a long deep breath like he’d been holding it a while.
Chapter 8
Micah’s home was a little garden apartment broken off from one of the giant houses in the Garden District. It was behind a gate and down a path that curved around the back of the house. Attached to the house, it had its own little entrance and sat on the corner, giving the two sides facing outward walls of windows out to an elaborate garden. Inside, the curtains were drawn so we couldn’t see in. Outside there was a tiny patio with little multicolor fairy lights installed on the square canopy set over the patio furniture. A handful of potted plants bloomed, mixed with fun lawn ornaments like light up mushrooms, and waving zombie gnomes. The entire area looked like it took a lot of time to maintain. Did Micah somehow manage that? Or was it a perk of living in the little house next to the giant mansion?
The attached house was huge, and dark. It could have starred in a haunted mansion movie, or one of those gore-fest movies that kids who’d never seen real violence seemed to love. During the daylight it probably looked like a grand old home. But the silence of the early morning hours added a chill to my bones that had me searching the corners for shadows that didn’t quite fit.
Micah unlocked the door and leaned in to turn on a light, then held it open for me. Inside was a bit of a surprise. It was small, there was no way around that. It might have been a drawing room or part of a ballroom or something in the house at one point with the high ceiling and thick crown moldings. It had a tiny loft area overhead, and a cottage ambiance with colors painted in white, pale blue, and sand that didn’t feel at all New Orleans, but did make the place homey. His kitchen was little more than a corner with a tiny fridge, a single burner stove, a microwave, and a mini-sink. There was also a large appliance stuffed next to the sink that I suspected was one of those all-in-one washer and dryer things.
A small two-seater table was pressed against the wall next to the front row of windows. The rest of the space was a living area filled with bookcases, a futon/couch in a bright colored pattern, and a small flat screen TV mounted on the wall in the back. He didn’t have a lot of furniture and what he did have was very minimalist, though some of the decorative items were really elaborate.
One overhead chandelier-looking light illuminated the whole space with LED crystals. Since the switch on the wall was a dimmer switch, I was sure it could be brighter. Tucked in the back corner under the window was one of those freestanding air-conditioner units. Thankfully it seemed to be working well because it was cool inside despite the soupy humidity outside.
If not for the loft, the place would have been a tiny studio. Maybe 400 square feet. Yet it felt homier than Lukas’ place did, more lived in and personable. The stairway up to the loft was little more than floating bookshelves coming down the far wall. Architecturally it was stunning, but I worried I’d fall if I had to navigate those stairs in the dark.
“It’s cute,” I told Micah. “I bet in the morning the sun through the windows is nice.”
He nodded, kicking off his shoes by the door and dropping the bag in a chair beside the door. I closed the door and flicked the lock out of habit, then took off my shoes and put them beside his.
A thump came from above, making me glance up toward the loft. A few seconds later a black cat came bounding down the stairs like it had done it a thousand times. It came our way, rubbing across Micah’s legs in greeting.
“Hey, Jet,” Micah said to the cat. Up close the black coat of the cat looked striped, with little rosettes in multiple shades of dark gray. He was also male and huge, maybe close to twenty pounds, sleek and muscled, not fat, and had short hair. I didn’t know enough about cats to determine the breed, although I couldn’t remember seeing a regular house cat that big before.
“You’re not allergic, are you?” Micah asked me.
“I don’t think so.” I bent down and offered a hand for the cat to sniff, wondering if he’d bite me or maybe run away because I probably still smelled like blood. Instead he bopped his head against my hand and let me scratch him. “Never had a cat. He’s friendly.”
“Not to everyone.” Micah looked around. “I think I’m going to jump into the shower, then I can make up the futon. You should probably shower too.”
I thought for a minute of showering with him, but let that pass without speaking it. Okay, so sometimes my filter worked. “Do you want me to make up the futon? While you shower?” Were there sheets somewhere?
“Sure. In the drawers under the futon are some sheets and blankets.” He glanced up at the loft. “There is no bed up in the loft. Too hard to get a mattress up there. I use it as a reading and craft nook, plus it gets really warm up there in the summer. Lots of pillows though. So if you want to grab a stack of pillows and some blankets and throw them down that would help.”
I looked at the futon and realized that meant we’d either be sleeping in the same bed or I would be sleeping on the floor.
“It’s bigger than it looks. Queen-sized sheets fit it.” His cheeks pinked. “Sorry. I spend a lot on the shop. Would rather invest in that than a home I don’t spend much time in since I work six days a week.”
“Oh, hey, no judgment. I think this place is nice. Small, but nice. Never would have thought a place like this was in that giant house.”
“They remodeled the whole thing after Hurricane Katrina. The entire house is made up of condos. This is the smallest of the bunch and the only one that has its own external access. I didn’t want something that felt like an apartment. I also don’t need as much space as a lot of people do. This was the smallest unit, and the cheapest.”
“You rent or own?”
“Own,” Micah said. “All the units are homesteads, no renting allowed. I wanted a place I could set up with space to work on my craft projects, and since the ceilings are so high in here, I thought the loft would work great for that.”
That made sense. I wondered what the other condos looked like. “Are you okay sharing the futon with me? I can sleep on the floor. The rug looks soft and comfy.”