I bolt, jumping over Carter and the downed newspaper rack. My name echoes after me, but I don’t glance over my shoulder. If I’m wrong, there will be plenty of time to explain later. And if I’m right?
I don’t want to think about that.
With both palms, I shove open the door to the men’s restroom. I dash to the window and scramble to the ledge. I kick my feet, trying for purchase. An otherworldly force pushes from behind, so I end up half in and half out of the window.
The ledge bites into my stomach. I wince, fight for a full breath, and scan the alley. It’s not quite sunrise. The only light comes from a streetlamp near the alleyway’s entrance. I breathe in that damp wood scent, catch a hint of rotted vegetables. To my left is a dumpster, the most likely source of the stench.
I grip the
