The Whispering Room

People who worked in law enforcement were an insular bunch, and as with any other group, there were those who fit in and those who didn’t. Most of the cops Evangeline worked with had always viewed her as something of an odd duck, but once she and Johnny became a couple, they’d at least made an effort to accept her. If doubts lingered, it was shelved for Johnny’s sake because everyone loved him.

But since his death, Evangeline was once again the odd man out. Not that she cared about a social life. Even growing up in the midst of a loving family, she’d always been a loner.

But Johnny was the opposite. He’d loved being surrounded by people.

Evangeline supposed his need for company came from being so alone as a child. His mother had abandoned him when he was a baby, leaving him to be raised by an aging grandmother who lived in the country. When she passed, he’d been shuffled through a series of foster homes until he was old enough to strike out on his own.

So, yeah, it was easy to understand why family and friends had meant so much to him.

Which made it all the more poignant that he’d died alone, in a deserted parking garage, crawling toward the exit.

Evangeline drew a shaky breath as memories of that night flooded through her.

Mitchell had come to the house to break the news to her. She’d been so stunned and distraught, she hadn’t asked for many of the details that first night. It was only later that she’d found out Johnny had been shot three times.

According to the coroner, the first bullet had only maimed him. He’d tried to get away from his assailant, but the second shot to the heart had killed him. The third shot had hit him in the face and obliterated his appearance so that even a forensic dental exam had been useless.

“Evangeline? That you up there, hon?”

She’d been so engrossed in dark memories, she hadn’t noticed her elderly neighbor approach the walkway in front of her house. The woman stood at the edge of the yard, peering through the falling dusk.

“You’re out kind of late, aren’t you, Miss Violet? Is everything okay?”

“I’m looking for Smokey. That blame cat got out again. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

“No, but if I do, I’ll grab him and bring him home.”

“Thanks, hon. I’d be much obliged. Ornery ol’coot ain’t worth much, but he’s all I got. I’d hate to lose him.”

“Try not to worry. I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” Evangeline promised.

She watched as Violet shuffled back across the street. The woman stood in the yard for a few minutes, calling loudly for her cat before she finally gave up and went inside.

The night fell silent, except for the occasional burst of laughter from down the street. A moth flitted past Evangeline’s cheek, and as she swatted it away, she caught a movement off to the side of the porch.

She froze, trying not to react, but her heart thudded against her chest, and she suddenly wished she’d brought her gun outside with her. She, of all people, knew how dangerous the city had become, with roving gangs of thugs terrorizing neighborhoods that had once been considered safe havens.

As Evangeline searched the darkness, she thought about her son, all alone in the house. If someone were hiding in the shadows, it would be up to her to protect him.

She waited, breathless, but nothing happened.

After a few moments, she got up and went inside. Locking the door, she turned out the light and went straight for her weapon. Then she moved back to the front door and parted the curtain.

Nothing moved outside. Maybe it had been her imagination.

But for the longest time, Evangeline watched the darkness. She felt restless and uneasy, and she couldn’t shake the notion that someone had been at the corner of the porch, watching her. That he might still be out there now, waiting for her to go to bed.

She left the window and headed for the nursery. She could see the glow of the night-light from down the hallway, and as she pushed open the door, her gaze went immediately to the crib, where she could see her son sleeping.

Nothing was out of place, so there was no reason to worry. No reason at all for the chill that slid up her spine as she stepped into the room or for the hammer of her heart as her gaze fastened on the baby.

He was lying just as she’d left him earlier, and yet…

Something was…not right.

Evangeline could feel it. It was as if the very air had been disturbed by…what?

Her breath came a little too fast as she reached for the light switch. The sudden brilliance caused her to blink and J.D. fretted in his sleep. Quickly, she moved to the side of the crib as her gaze darted around the room.

The space was furnished with only the baby’s bed, a changing table and a rocking chair by the window. Evangeline could see the whole room in one glance, and she knew, without a doubt, that she and her son were alone.

So why was the hair at the back of her neck standing on end?

Why was she suddenly so uneasy in her own home?