Someone walked by, a dark shadow, tall and manly. I knew he couldn’t see us in the shadows. Sniffing the air, I found his scent familiar. I stood and left the woman there, planning to return and dispose of her before too long. I wanted to taste this man first.

He walked with purpose. I kept pace just behind. He wore a business suit, had a laptop bag even. He looked out of place in the dregs of downtown. I licked my lips and moved closer.

At a payphone, he stopped and fumbled in his pocket for change.

I breathed deep, confusion washing over me.

“Yeah, hey, Rich. Look, my car died. Can you come get me?”

Five steps away from the man, I stopped in my tracks.

His back was to me when he laughed.

I gasped.

As he gave directions to the person on the phone, I shook my head in disbelief. He put the receiver in place and faced me. Shock widened his eyes. His mouth hung lax while he took in the sight of me.

“Angela? Angela Harris?” A pleasant smile lit up his face. He came toward me, his arms outstretched. I wanted to back away, maybe step aside. This couldn’t be real. He crushed me in an embrace.

I stared up into those big blue eyes and awoke from my dark dreams. Tommy Davis was before me. And I was a wretched creature. A minute more and he would have been dead. I had followed him with the intent of killing him.

“Yes,” I muttered trying to keep my teeth hidden. “Yes, and you’re Tommy.”

“What happened to you? You never came back to class.”

“My mom died.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry to hear that. You look . . . you look different . . . but good.”

“Yeah, you look just the same.” It was too much for me, the closeness of him. This big lug of a football player holding me, he was even cuter now that he’d aged a bit. And what was he thinking of me? What did I look like? My clothes were stolen from a dancer I had found on Park and Third. She was nearly gone, crack or heroin, I couldn’t be sure. Did I look like a streetwalker or maybe someone going out to a bar? I looked cheap.

“I have to go,” I said in a rush. “Big date and all.”

“Oh,” he said, a frown turning his lips down. His arms fell away and I wanted them back. I hadn’t even returned his hug. “Well, it’s good to see you again. Listen, I could give you my number. Maybe we could go out sometime.”

“Yeah, yeah that would be great.”

“Angela Harris,” he said, wistful. “I’ve been looking for you since high school. You just . . . vanished.”