See You, See Me

Amy's whisper had a decided urgency to it. "He's here, Beaver's killer. He's in the bar."

"Oh, Amy, you must be dreaming—"

"I'm not." Amy grabbed Lottie's arm and tugged her toward the door. "C'mon, before he sees us."

With Amy in the lead, they hurried back to the front door. The lounge meanwhile was emptying rapidly. Two large parties had been called to their tables, leaving the tall man almost alone.

Facing them. Praying that he wouldn't get a good look at her, Amy turned her head away.

Lottie, however, peered inquisitively into the bar. "You mean the tall one?"

Keeping her back toward the bar, Amy pulled her friend's arm. "Yes, but come on, please."

As they reached the door, the tall man threw some money on the bar and headed toward the dining room. But when he turned away, the sight of two women fussing with the heavy door suddenly captured his attention.

As Amy got the heavy door open and tugged Lottie through it, a single word drifted across the lobby: "Fluffy?"

The cold night air hit them as the door slammed shut. "Hurry," Amy pleaded. "To the car."

"No, not the car. This way." Lottie grabbed Amy's hand and led her to their left toward the nearest corner of the building. Out of the doorway's line of sight, she said, "If he sees us in the car he can for sure find out where we live."

"But—"

"You're a runner," Lottie puffed. "Run." Together they raced down an access road on the dark side of the building, flanked only by a fence and the street beyond.

Amy gulped the cold air. "No place to hide," she muttered.

"Keep running."

In another twenty yards they turned another corner and found themselves behind the restaurant, in the midst of a loading dock, trash hoppers and a dozen employees' cars. Breathing heavily, Lottie peeked back around the corner. "No sign of him."

Amy leaned against the fence. "He probably thought we went to the car, but when he doesn't find us in the parking lot, how soon will it be before he comes around here too?"

Behind the fence, they saw nothing but a few scattered light in the neighboring block. Lottie looked in an opened trash hopper. "We could hide in there."

"If he finds us there, it'll be like shooting fish in a barrel. People don't hide in hoppers successfully, even in the movies."

"We've got to get—" Lottie stopped and pointed to the only opening in the back fence, a platform of rough wooden planking with stairs extending down into the dark emptiness below. "Look, let's take that."

"Where does it go?" "I don't know," Lottie said, then corrected herself. "Of course, I do. It goes down into the yards. Come on... it's the perfect spot. There'll be a thousand places to hide. Hurry."

Amy didn't need any encouragement. Together they clattered down the sturdy wooden steps as fast as their dress shoes would permit.

Catching their breath when they reached the first landing, they stared down into the darkness before hurrying on to the next flight.

On the second landing, they assessed their situation again. The yard below, which had been virtually abandoned for years, was pitch black. Looking up, anyone coming down would be visible in the glare of the restaurant's lights. When they looked up, a tall man moved to the top of the stairs and looked down.

"There he is," Amy moaned. "He'll see us now."

"No, remember how dark it looks from up there," Lottie said. "Turn your face away."

They held their breath as long as they dared, then peeked. Sure enough, the man had moved away from the stairway.

"Take off your shoes and keep going," Amy whispered. "Then he won't hear us."

Lottie complied and, shoes in hand, they hurried down one more flight until their feet touched the cold, damp cement floor. They breathed sighs of relief.

Lottie peered into the darkness. "Now we've got to find a place to hide. If he doesn't find us up there, he's bound to come down."

Feeling their way in the blackness, they moved deeper into the yards where rows of small pens were separated by high wooden fences and connected by broad alleys. After years of inactivity, the fences were badly in need of repair. Some planks lay on the cement, others were propped against the fences. It was possible to move from one pen to another simply by climbing through or over the gaps in the fences.

"Keep your head down," Lottie said.

"Sh-h-h. I heard something. He's up there on the steps again."

They slipped into an empty pen, huddled together and listened. Sure enough, they could now hear footsteps coming slowly down the wooden steps. Suddenly a chilling "Fluffy" filled the air.

Amy gasped. "C'mon, let's get further away from the steps." Still carrying their shoes, they scrambled quietly into another pen, but paused suddenly when they heard a soft, suspicious rustling ahead of them.

"What's that?" Amy stammered. Then the smell suddenly overwhelmed them. Some of the pens were occupied. Lottie reached around experimentally with one hand. "Steers. Forget the hygiene, there's safety in numbers. Let's join 'em."