Creepers by David Morrell

picture she carried with her throughout the apartment. It was a constant companion during the lost, lonely waking hours that punctuated her spells of sleeping. Even now, as she sat at her bedroom's vanity table while drawing a brush lazily through her hair, Louise's vague pleasure at hearing Corelli's voice was overshadowed by Lisa's haunting smile. She'd heard stories like her own before, dreaded them in some deep recess of her mind which she never admitted existed--until Labor Day. And now Lisa was gone. Taken from her. In the hands of a stranger. Or worse.
    An ennui so seductive she had to stand to fight it engulfed Louise. The call to sleep was not to be denied, but she must! Frank Corelli wanted to question her some more. He hadn't been specific on the phone, but she guessed from his voice that Lisa wasn't his sole reason for wanting to see her. Louise hadn't done much dating since David walked out, but she doubted if the male animal had changed all that much in only a year. Behind his earlier questions was a healthy male curiosity about Louise Hill, about what type of woman she was, apart from her tragic situation. Corelli's attention had momentarily taken her mind off Lisa, and for that blessing she would gladly talk to him for hours.
    The doorman's buzzing signaled Corelli's arrival. Startled, Louise took a last fleeting look at herself in the mirror and fled the bedroom to answer the intercom. Two minutes later she opened the door to Frank Corelli. He looked exactly as she'd remembered--a tough, overgrown kid with a quick smile and devastating blue eyes. But be was obviously no kid. His manner was authoritative and direct. He was a man who knew what he wanted and was used to getting it.
    "Sorry to bust in on you like this, Mrs. Hill." The smile showed he was actually happy to be there.
    "Not at all." She led him down the hall to the living room. "To tell the truth, I could use the company. I've just made coffee. I'll get us some."
    While she was gone, Corelli unbuttoned his jacket and leaned back against the soft cushions of the couch. He liked this apartment. He felt like he'd drifted into a country house far from the city. During their first interview Louise Hill had mentioned being a textile designer; that explained the proliferation of floral patterns and prints. Corelli wasn't much interested in furniture and decorating--as long as there was a comfortable place to sit, he was happy--but in this room you'd have to be blind not to see the time and taste that had gone into decorating it. Almost against his will, Frank began to wonder what kind of a jerk would divorce someone with as many attributes as Louise Hill.
    "This time I promise to keep the coffee off the floor," Louise joked as she returned with a full tray. "I'm not usually so all-thumbs, but under the circumstances..."
    "How do you feel?"
    "Numb. Like I'd been shot full of novocaine." She settled in a wing chair opposite him and poured the coffee. "You take cream, no sugar, right?" He nodded. "I feel these past two days have really been years."
    "It's a natural reaction."
    "Oh? I didn't know there were natural reactions to having your daughter kidnapped. Or should I say disappear?" She sipped her coffee. "Have you heard anything, Frank? Off the record? I only get a cold shoulder from the police."
    "Sony," he said, blushing. He'd forgotten they were on a first-name basis; she made his name sound sexy. "The NYPD is still investigating...it's a big city."
    "That's always the reason for everything that goes wrong here, isn't it--it's a big city. It's an unfeeling city, is what you really mean."
    Corelli could see the toll her pain was taking on her. Yesterday, despite the tears, Louise had seemed alert and alive. Today she was bedraggled, like she hadn't been sleeping or had been sleeping too much. A patina of listlessness was slowly enveloping her. Corelli had seen it happen before. Confronted with a terrible situation with no action to take, the mind often