Alone by Francine Pascal Page B

Pill

    HEATHER TRIED TO ACT LIKE SHE was already fearless as she climbed the wide, wooden stairs, but she wasn’t having too much luck. She was a city girl, and she had certain instincts. Instincts that reminded her to walk in the street rather than inside an enclosed underpass—better to be hit by a car than lose her wallet to a mugger. Instincts that made her stay within sight of the token-booth operator and spot the conductor’s car if she were taking the subway at night. Instincts that told her never to take a friendly ride, even from a cop. And instincts that were wary of the outer-borough address and absolutely desolate location of this abandoned warehouse.
    She was in Queens, for God’s sake. Long Island
City. As if there could be a less trendy address within the five boroughs. This was where fashion victims came to die, it seemed.
    The place even smelled dangerous. Like it hadn’t been mopped since time began. If a marauding pack of homeless gang members didn’t get her, the Ebola virus probably would.
    Still, when Josh squeezed her hand and turned to smile at her, Heather felt her body ooze with reassurance, as if his gaze were filled with warm wax, pouring into her insides . She squeezed back and smiled in a way that, she hoped, at least successfully faked some confidence.
    When they got to the third floor, Josh unhooked a massive sliding door, yanking it sideways so that it whined in protest, gray paint flaking onto the concrete floor. Inside, it was a whole other story.
    She stepped into a long, wide room, as big as a city block, the walls stripped to bare brick and hung with large and weird oil paintings. The floor was a freshly sanded wood that gleamed with a recent coat of wax. A friendly kitchen stood out in stark white to her left, and the only interruption to the flow of the room was a white raised loft off in the corner. It was, in a word, stunning.
    â€œWhat a great place to throw a New Year’s Eve party,” she said. “I don’t suppose I could rent this out?”
    â€œHeather,” Josh said, ignoring her insouciant question. “I want you to meet Oliver. Gaia’s father.”
    Heather turned to face this mysterious man.
    â€œI wish I could say it was a pleasure,” she said, sizing him up. “But I can’t exactly say Gaia and I are best buddies.”
    Wow. For an old guy he was kind of. . . dashing? Was that the word? Heather usually didn’t go in for dinosaurs. That said, this guy was cool looking. He was in great shape, for one thing. He had to be at least forty-five, but she could tell his athletic, lanky frame was flawless. And he was dressed impeccably, in a custom-tailored Brooks Brothers suit. His hair was reddish blond, just enough to give his face an aura of brightness, and his deep-set eyes were the most reassuring liquid blue.
    In short, Gaia’s dad was a major babe.
    â€œWell, it’s certainly my pleasure to meet you,” he said, gazing intently into her eyes with a look that clearly said, “You are the only person on this planet at this moment.” He shook her hand with a two-handed grip and gave her a sincere, knowing nod. “I’m aware that Gaia can be difficult. It is one of the more tragic chapters in my life, the fact that I can’t repair my relationship with her. I hope she hasn’t caused you too much discomfort.”
    So Heather wasn’t the only one who’d had more than a fair share of Gaia trouble. She’d turned her back on her own damn father. Heather shook her head, wondering at the many people Gaia had shit on in her life. It never occurred to her not to believe everything he was saying to her. It never occurred to her that Gaia might have excellent reason to detest the man who claimed to be her father.
    Meanwhile, Heather felt self-conscious. This guy was so much cooler than she’d thought he was going to be! She’d expected some kind of weird, bald mad