Page 29 of The Locked Door

I frown and try again. Why did he lock himself in thebedroom? That’s strange.

“Nora? What are you doing?”

I jerk my head up. Brady is standing next to me, now dressed in the jeans and T-shirt he had on earlier. His eyebrows are bunched together. “I was just going back to the bedroom,” I say.

He looks over his shoulder. “The bedroom is over there. That’s my office, remember?”

“Oh.”

He snorts. “I think you’re the first person ever to get lost in this tiny apartment.”

“Yeah…” I look back at the locked door, my stomach suddenly queasy. “How come you lock your office?”

He shrugs. “I’ve got some financial papers in there. Just… keeping them safe.”

“Right…”

I can’t help but notice the way Brady avoids my eyes. Is he lying to me? Is there something else in this locked room? Something he doesn’t want anybody to see?

I can’t help but remember the locked basement door in my old house growing up. What turned out to be behind that locked door.

But this is entirely different. People lock doors to rooms in their houses, for God’s sake. It doesn’t necessarily mean they’re a psychotic serial killer. And Brady seems perfectly nice. I can tell.

I take a deep breath through my nose, trying to detect that distantly familiar smell of old blood and rotting flesh.

No. Nothing.

Not even lavender.

“Anyway,” I say, as I walk back past Brady to the living room. My purse is where I left it on the kitchen counter and my clogs were kicked off in the living room. I slide my feet back into my shoes. “I’m going to head out now.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Unnecessary.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not a great neighborhood. I’ll feel better if I walk you to your car.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Is there areasonwhy you don’t want me to walk you to your car?”

I pause in the middle of putting on my jacket and look up at Brady. There’s a hurt expression on his face. I realize I’m kind of being a bitch. We had a good time tonight, and I’m taking off on him pretty abruptly. He didn’t do anything to deserve that. He’s been nothing but nice to me. And what he did back in the bedroom was…

“Fine,” I say. “Let’s go.”

Brady grabs his keys off the kitchen counter and shoves them into his pocket. Then he follows me down the stairs and out the front door. We don’t say a word the entire time, but I hear his footsteps behind me.

Even though it was dark when we got here, it seems darker now. The neighborhood isn’t very well lit. I look at the front of the house, and at first, I think that old woman is still rocking on her chair, but then I realize the chair is now empty. It must be rocking from the wind.

As much as I hate to admit it, I’m glad Brady came out to walk me to my car. He even comes around and holds the driver’s side door open for me. Even though it’smycar.Someone raised him to have good manners.

It makes me think again of that tie he wore on our first date. How hard he was trying. It’s almost enough to make me want to stay.

“Nora,” he says.

I slide into the driver’s seat and look up at him. “Yes?”

“I had a really good time tonight,” he says.