2 Multiple Exposures Read Online Free PDF

doctor’s office.
    I turned right and tiptoed down the hall a few steps and called for Lissa again. Still no answer. Now, I was beginning to think everyone had gone to a late lunch and forgotten about me. In New York, I had heard about stories such as that and couldn’t imagine how it was possible.
    At the end of the passage, I came to a junction. Dr. Bloomberg had more space than I thought, and I wondered if other doctors shared the office. I assumed they must, but still I hadn’t run into anyone. A sound like a door opening and stumbling feet caught my attention. A thud made me stop cold. What was that? My heart thundered in my chest, and I pressed a hand to it.
    Calm down, Makayla. This isn’t some haunted house, and you’re not alone. It’s the middle of the day.
    My pep talk managed to pull me together to some extent, and I got moving again, if slowly. I had meant to return to the front of the office, but had forgotten the direction Lissa and I took to get to the room where I had waited.
    Pivoting on the ball of my foot, I started to retrace my journey but froze. At the end of another hall was something very odd. I hadn’t seen it when I first entered this intersection because just an inch or two stuck out past the wall. Now I noticed, and my stomach dropped. I wanted to jet back to my room, scramble into my clothes, and leave as if I had seen nothing. My feet wouldn’t hear of it. They propelled me forward.
    I reached the end of the hall, and my fears were confirmed. A closet door lay open. Next to it a shorter passage, and at the end another closed door, above it an Exit sign. What was important though was the closet, or rather what lay half in, half out of the closet. An elderly man with a head full of white hair was slumped face down and unmoving. He wore a white lab coat and a stethoscope around his neck, brown slacks with neat cuffs at the ends, brown worn shoes. Near his hand as if he had let loose of it when he fell was a very expensive looking black pen.
    No, I thought, nausea assailing me. The knowledge came through to my befuddled mind that this man was not merely unconscious. This man, who must surely be Dr. Zachariah Bloomberg, was dead, and beside the “good” doctor wasn’t just an ordinary pen. That innocently-looking device was in fact a camera.
    Now I knew why the person who had written the mystery letter contacted me of all people. Just what had Dr. Bloomberg been up to with his camera that looked like a pen?
     

Chapter Four
     
    I, who loves all things camera, can spot my beloved with my eyes closed. Well, not really, but you get the picture. At various times in my life, I have obsessed over quality equipment that at the time I couldn’t afford. I had never needed nor desired spy equipment, but I had subscribed to various magazines that presented the latest in technology in this field. So, of course, I have seen cameras as small as a shirt button or a lapel pin. I have seen more than one camera pen.
    While one part of my mind processed the fact that Dr. Bloomberg may have been using a camera pen, my conscious mind was panicking. Here it went again, another body, another murder. Was I cursed? Did I draw this drama to my life? I don’t mind telling you I am not the kind of woman that craves diversion. I am sufficiently happy with my photography business, Universe. Thank you for the offer! Let us cancel any agreements you think we have.
    I backed up from the body and kept backpedaling with no thought in my mind of anything other than putting space between the two of us. I know I was panicking, but I was helpless to stop it. What did curb my escape was bumping into the opposite wall. With my hands behind me, pinned between my bum and the barrier, I froze, eyes wide, mouth agape. I didn’t want to see him or ponder how he passed, what he had been doing just before he died, or anything else. I couldn’t think at all outside of what my eyes wouldn’t allow me to stop seeing.
    “Dr.