Pursued by Shadows Read Online Free PDF

beside a study of some tree branches, a neat little list. Not one name, but four. He must be trying to set up an auction. She reached in her pocket for pen and paper, and began to scribble furiously.
    She was halfway through the last name when the key turned in the front door. Heavy footsteps shook the stairs. “You home, Nigel?” a voice called. “The bitch didn’t show.” It echoed it the silence. “Stupid bastard, leaving lights on everywhere,” the voice muttered. The footsteps clattered into the bathroom.
    Crouched as low as she could without losing speed, Jane flew out of the living room, along the hall, and down the narrow staircase. The flushing of the toilet covered the delicate sound of the apartment door clicking shut.
    Harriet was dreaming that Guy Beaumont was painting her, nude, for a fourteen-foot-high mural to be installed in her neighbourhood supermarket. For some reason, he had to paint elaborate designs on her body before he could begin to do the actual wall. Each brush stroke tore her flesh and rang in her ears like a fingernail scratching on slate, making her shrivel in pain and fear, but leaving her powerless to move away. At the last agonizing stroke of the brush, she woke up, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding frantically. With a gasp of relief, she rolled over to turn on the light by her bed and exorcise the demon of her old lover. A scraping sound on the other side of the door stopped her in mid-movement. The sounds she had been hearing in her dream were only a few feet away from her.
    The handle of her bedroom door gave a slight squeal as it turned and the door began to open.
    â€œWho in hell is out there?” yelled Harriet, driven beyond caution by exasperation. She reached for the light, changed her mind, and drew back her hand. In the same movement she slipped out the far side of the bed onto the floor.

Chapter 3
    â€œShit, but you startled me,” said a male voice. The hall light clicked on and a figure appeared, outlined in the doorway to Harriet’s bedroom. “Where are you?” he went on, peering unsuccessfully into the relative darkness in front of him.
    â€œ
Who
are you, breaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night?” Harriet demanded, trying not to panic. Unfortunately, her voice was muted and muffled by the heavily lined window curtains that concealed her and the effect was less than impressive.
    â€œThat is you, Harriet, isn’t it?” said the voice, apparently unaware of any hostility in his reception. “Where’s Jane?”
    â€œWho are you?” she repeated to the silhouette, and then stepped out from behind the curtains, picking up her dressing gown from the foot of the bed.
    â€œDon’t you remember me?” he detached himself from his position and sat down comfortably on the edge of the bed, clearly in no doubt of his welcome. “It’s Peter. Peter Bellingham. Remember? I was one of Guy’s students at the College of Art. I was here at a couple of parties.”
    Harriet reached over to switch on the light before perching warily on the other side of the bed to examine him. The small reading lamp picked out shiny light brown hair and a soft, pretty face. “Of course,” she said, yawning. “Peter. One of the groupies,” and was amused to see him flush with embarrassment. “Look—if we’re going to have a conversation, I’d prefer to have it upstairs. If you don’t mind.”
    â€œYou want some coffee?” asked Harriet once she had shepherded the young man into her living room. Coffee was the last thing she needed, but at least it would give her something to occupy her hands while she figured out what to do with him. “Now—would you mind explaining what you’re doing here?” she asked, with another enormous yawn.
    He didn’t seem to notice that his hostess was both annoyed and on the brink of falling asleep.