Twist by John Lutz

danger.
    When they’d walked the few blocks to Carlie’s apartment building, Fedderman accompanied her inside.
    They rode the elevator up and he went with her to her apartment, going inside first after she’d unlocked the door. He was glad to see she had a knob lock and two dead bolts, all operated by the same key. Fedderman was glad to see her return the key to her purse. It was surprising how many people, for the sake of convenience, left their door keys under a welcome mat or on top of the door frame. Those obvious hiding places had been a convenience for burglars for as long as Fedderman could remember.
    Though Carlie didn’t seem to require it, he went through the apartment room by room, even checking closets and beneath the bed. He also made sure all the windows were locked.
    When he returned to the living room he noticed how much cooler it was and saw that she’d switched on the air conditioner.
    “I should have turned on the unit in the bedroom,” he said.
    Carlie shrugged. “No matter.”
    “You’re locked in tight,” he said. “I’ll hang around outside for a while, just to be sure.”
    “Of what?”
    “That nobody else is hanging around outside.”
    “You don’t have to do that,” Carlie said.
    Huh? “Aren’t you the woman who asked for protection?”
    “Yes, from a killer. But the way I figure it, whoever took those photographs is a coward.”
    “So you don’t think they were taken by the killer?”
    “Probably they weren’t. But if they were, he was hiding behind a camera.”
    “I know that bullies and people who operate in the shadows are supposed to be cowards,” Fedderman said, “but to tell you the truth, I haven’t found that to be the case.”
    “No phony reassurances out of you,” Carlie said.
    “It would be just like a serial killer, driven by compulsion and sadism, to try to spook you by letting you know he’s been observing you. This is serious, Carlie. I could show you some other photographs that would assure you of that.”
    “I understand that he’s not playing games,” she said.
    “No, he is playing games! And now and then it’s time to sacrifice a pawn.”
    Carlie cupped her elbows in her hands and gave herself a hug.
    Fedderman smiled. “Sorry. I don’t want you badly frightened, but at the same time I want you scared enough to take precautions.”
    Carlie seemed to give this some consideration. “I think we’ve achieved just the right balance.”
    Fedderman wasn’t so sure.
    He went back outside and stood in a doorway across the street, where he could keep an eye on Carlie’s apartment building. He could, in fact, see one of her lighted windows, and her silhouette pass from time to time across the drawn drapes.
    A nice kid, Fedderman thought. He imagined her as his daughter. He considered what young women in the city had to cope with these days.
    He was glad he didn’t have a daughter.
     
     
    Fedderman had been there about an hour, his knees locked the way he’d seen cattle do it in the field, when Carlie came out of the building. She glanced around, and walked toward him. She had on blue shorts and jogging shoes, and a T-shirt with a big yellow arrow on it pointing to her chin above the message Not Stupid .
    She thought Fedderman was staring at her breasts until she remembered what shirt she was wearing.
    “This is kind of silly,” she said. “I’m hungry. Let’s go down the street to a good Chinese restaurant and I’ll buy you dinner.”
    Fedderman wondered what Quinn would think about that. He’d probably approve. Carlie couldn’t be much safer than sitting across from her protector in a restaurant.
    “Let’s do that,” Fedderman said. “But dinner’s on me. I’ve got an expense account.”
    “All the better,” Carlie said, and led the way.
    She walked fast. Fedderman had a long, loping stride but had to hurry to keep up.
    As he walked, he used his cell phone to let Quinn know where they were going.

    They stayed at the restaurant,