Psycop 4: Secrets
“It was snowing outside, hard little pellets that were indistinguishable from road salt as they bounced off car hoods and curbs. “You did all you could do, and we used up the si-nos,” said Lisa. “Maybe you should go home and finish unpacking today.”
“I think I’d rather….” nothing witty sprang to mind, which was just as well, because I was distracted by a flash of something in my peripheral vision. It wasn’t that the movement looked paranormal in any way—flicker, blur, transparency, jitter, all the skin-crawling crap that movies copy so well—but just that it seemed too dark.
I turned my head and spotted a figure standing at the edge of the parking lot. He was thirty yards away, but I recognized his dreads immediately. Snow coated everything around him, but his trenchcoat stayed black. “It’s the elevator guy,” I said.
Lisa went still.
He saw me. I knew he did. He looked at me, that same sallow-eyed look he’d given me in the elevator.
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