Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
F or some reason the laundry room episode stood out clearly in Darby’s mind. She had no idea who the guy was, nor which apartment he lived in, but his comments, though funny, had upset her. Did she do a lot of laundry? And did people notice?
When she tried to think about it, she couldn’t remember. And when she tried to think about how she actually spent her time, she couldn’t. What did she do all day? When was the last time she had a clear thought?
With difficulty she opened the information for the apartment and tenants. Ham automated everything long before he died. Between his automation and her accountant, she had very little to do, in terms of day-to-day investments. Maybe she should take a firmer hand, try to expand Ham’s empire. Was that even possible? Could she buy more properties? Did she want to?
Pushing those thoughts away, she clicked a few buttons and opened the vital statistics she kept on her tenants, including their pictures. There, that guy. Eli Jackson. Age twenty eight. Good credit, no previous complaints or issues in the two years he’d lived in the building. Two years. Was that possible? How had she never seen him before?
Absently, the mouse clicked through the remainder of the tenants, mentally cataloguing them as if to remind herself of their names and apartment numbers. Her hand froze on the last one, heart thumping. There was something…off about him. But what was it? Why did he give her such a bad feeling? Had she ever talked to him?
As if of their own accord, her fingers touched her lips, almost expecting them to be puffy and raw, but why? She hadn’t kissed anyone since Ham died. Had she?
Something was very, very wrong. Darby had no idea what. Worse, she had no idea how to find out. All she had was this vague and terrifying feeling of unease, as if every sense was suddenly alert and blaring an alarm at her. Danger, danger, danger. Why? From where?
Unable to find answers, unable to think about it any longer, Darby slammed the laptop closed and shoved it in a drawer. There. Out of sight, out of mind. If she didn’t see it, there wasn’t a problem. Not a perfect strategy, but it had kept her going this long. No need to change that today.
Ghostlike, she pushed away from the desk, wandered to her room, and stripped the sheets off the bed, ignoring the vivid red splotches that covered everything once again.