Chapter 4
ASHA
Disappointed that none of the women I’d shown Sierra’s photo to had seen her, I made my way back toward the station.
I kept my eyes off the guy shooting up on the curb and moved past shuttered storefronts, and tents that sagged under the weight of rain and rot. Shopping carts piled with bags and blankets sat like stark reminders of whole lives that’d slipped through the cracks.
The El clattered and groaned as it passed overhead. I caught movement behind me in the reflection of a scratched convex mirror at an alley’s exit.
A man in a red puffer jacket followed me. Latino. Mustache. Face tats.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was walking to the station, too. All the logic in the world didn’t stop my heart rate from picking up.
Once the racket from the train cleared, the man was close enough that I heard his footsteps and the swish of his jacket as he walked.
Moving past a fenced-off vacant lot, I tightened my grip on the pepper spray in my pocket and quickened my pace. The man’s steps sped up to match mine. A cold sweat prickled the back of my neck.
There were few people along this stretch. Not that it mattered. Safety in numbers didn’t apply to this part of town, where bad things happened all the time.
Up ahead, more darkness and closed-up storefronts. A streetlight had been smashed out to leave pools of inky shadows beneath.
A siren wailed. Two women argued across the street. The stink of sewer or garbage forced me to mouth breathe.
The footsteps drew nearer. The station was a couple of blocks away. I could run for it and risk getting caught, or I could confront the stalker. Make a whole lot of noise and unleash my pepper spray. He wouldn’t expect that.
Decision made, I readied myself to go on the offensive. Then I heard it—a sharp grunt and a rustle of movement.
I spun, pepper spray clutched in my extended hand, feet wide. “Back the fuck—”
But there was nothing there. No man. No footsteps. Just the sounds of the city and another train passing overhead.
I panted misty breaths into the cold night air. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might crack a rib or two.
What the fuck? Was I going crazy? I couldn’t have imagined the person following me.
I wasn’t about to stick around to become an episode in someone else’s podcast. Time to get the hell out of here.