The Night Is Watching by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

room. But nothing else happened. Finally, she decided she wanted a shower, and if she was going to have a shower and get something to eat, she needed to rise before she fell asleep and found herself waking, starved, at three or four in the morning.
    She placed her gun and holster in the bedside drawer, went through her closet for fresh clothing and hurried into the bathroom. The whirlpool was tempting, but it would send her right to sleep and she had to switch time zones. Instead, she got into the shower and emerged ten minutes later, feeling nicely refreshed.
    Still in the bathroom, she dried off, then wrapped the towel around herself and looked in the mirror. It was solidly misted from the steam. But as she picked up a facecloth to clear it, she paused. An eerie sensation swept over her.
    She wasn’t alone.
    And as she stood there, writing appeared in the mist.
    BEWARE
    She froze. She’d long accepted that there was a thin veil between life and death and that restless spirits could linger behind for any number of reasons. And yet, despite everything, despite every Krewe case she’d worked and those she’d been involved with for the San Antonio police, she still felt a moment’s primal fear. Her heart thudded. Her breath caught.
    The writing began again.
    TRICKSTER
    “Beware of a trickster,” she said, exhaling as she did. “Who is the trickster?” she asked softly.
    But, this time, she wasn’t to be answered. “Talk to me, please. If there’s something I should know...”
    No more writing appeared in the mist on the mirror.
    She didn’t touch it. She brushed her teeth and looked again. Nothing more than the two words she’d already seen.
    She left the bathroom, closing the door so the mist would remain awhile longer, and dressed in casual clothes for the evening to come. She debated staying in the room, but by the time she’d brushed her hair, the fog had cleared in the bathroom mirror and no other incidents had occurred.
    Jane figured she’d go downstairs for dinner. She stood in the middle of the room. “I know you’re here,” she said. “If you have something to tell me, please do.”
    No objects flew, the air didn’t grow cold, nothing happened at all.
    And still, Jane was certain that she was being watched. And judged.
    She made her way downstairs, and when she reached the lower level, she noticed that the velvet curtains were drawn and that laughter was coming from the theater section of the Gilded Lily. She turned and saw that there were still a few diners at the tables and a mix of locals and tourists at the bar; she assumed the locals were the men in work wear rather than the designer jeans and denim shirts or T-shirts and cutoffs the tourists tended to wear. Women, of course, were harder to peg. Several wore casual dresses and others were in pants or jeans and T-shirts.
    She sat at a table that she thought must be in Liz’s station, since she was delivering food to a family at a nearby table. She was right. As she studied the menu, Liz breezed by with a smile. “Hi, glad you came down! Okay,” she said, lowering her voice, “I don’t suggest the fish. We have farm-raised tilapia and it’s kind of blah. Are you a vegetarian? We do a cheese and broccoli risotto that’s absolutely delicious. But, hey, we’re in meat country. The beefalo is pretty darned good, either as a steak or in a burger. And then, of course, there’s Tex-Mex. We have excellent fajitas, tacos, burritos...”
    “The risotto sounds great,” Jane said.
    “Oh, you are a vegetarian.”
    “No.” Jane shook her head. “It just sounds good for tonight.”
    Liz was going to give her the full list of wine choices to complement her meal but Jane didn’t think she wanted her perceptions dulled in the least that night. “I’ll have an iced tea, thanks.”
    “Sure thing!” Liz said. “Be right back. Oh, take a peek at the show if you like—just slip through the curtain. We’ve all been told that you have free rein of