Dark Perception: The Corde Noire Series (8 page)

“
Why is the building called
The Shallows?”

“
The land the warehouse
sits on used to belong to a slave trading company in the mid-1800s.
When the warehouse was renovated in the 1920s, a lot of shallow
graves were found while they were digging out the foundation. It
was nicknamed The Shallows for all the graves found there, and the
name eventually stuck. Many believe the graves were those of slaves
who died at the warehouse before being auctioned off.”

Melinda recalled the vision she’d had
of a field of shallow graves. That was the problem with visions—you
could never truly understand the interpretation until it came
true.

“
So is the building
haunted, Bob?”

Bob laughed, a hoarse-sounding
chuckle. “No, Miss Melinda. It’s just an old warehouse with nothing
paranormal going on, I assure you.”

“
Paranormal doesn’t bother
me, Bob,” she joked. “Do you live there?”

Bob nodded. “I have a small apartment
on the third floor, in case I need to be on call for Mr. Cole.
Otherwise, I live in Metairie and come in when Mr. Cole needs
me.”

“
How many other employees
live there?”

“
Mr. Cole’s secretary, Edna
Barker, lives on the third floor. She’s an elderly widow who
handles all of his appointments and paperwork. There is Phil
Boudreaux, who works as a security guard for the building, and Marv
Spell, who handles the building maintenance. You’ll meet everyone
in time. Most people keep to themselves at The
Shallows.”

Melinda turned the information over in
her head, and then that eerie feeling grew more
insistent.

“
Is there something else
about the building I should know?”

Bob wrinkled his brow at her through
the rearview mirror. “Something else?” He pondered her question.
“It’s a nice building, real clean, and Mr. Cole makes sure his
tenants are satisfied. Other than that, I don’t know what to tell
you, miss.”

Melinda searched his eyes and sensed
his apprehension. “Just trying to get a feel for the place, Bob,
that’s all.” She gazed out the window at the passing tourists on
the street. “So who will be my neighbor at The
Shallows?”

“
Your apartment is on the
top floor. Mr. Cole will be your neighbor.”

Melinda’s gut clenched. “Mr. Cole? You
said only Mr. Cole lived on the top floor.”

Bob grinned at her in the rearview
mirror. “Mr. Cole insisted you be close by and had Marv get the
apartment next to his penthouse ready for you.”

The dread slowly climbed up Melinda’s
throat. “Who else lives on the top floor besides Mr.
Cole?”

Bob turned his attention to the road
ahead. “No one, ma’am.”

“
Then who lived in the
apartment before me?”

Bob shrugged. “Mr. Cole’s decorator
lived there briefly before moving out of town a while back. The
place has been vacant ever since.”

Melinda sat back in her seat as a knot
formed in her stomach. Suddenly, her new adventure had taken a turn
toward the unexpected.

* * *

When Bob parked the Mercedes in front
of a renovated, five-story, red-bricked warehouse, Melinda was a
little disappointed. The way Nathan had described the apartment
building he owned, it sounded like a four-star hotel. But the
exterior resembled the rest of the refurbished warehouses on the
short block. It had an unassuming façade of plain windows climbing
up to the top floor, a single entrance with a decorative
leaded-glass door, and cast-iron streetlights lining the front
sidewalk.

“
This is it?”

Bob cut the engine. “Yes, Miss
Melinda. This is The Shallows.”

“
It’s smaller than I
expected.”

Bob peered up at the building. “There
are only a few apartments on each floor, with your apartment and
Mr. Cole’s penthouse on the fifth floor. Not a large apartment
building, but too many people would probably annoy Mr.
Cole.”

“
What makes you say
that?”

Bob stretched for his car door. “He’s
a very private man.”

When Melinda stepped onto the
sidewalk, she glanced over at Bob. “Thanks for the ride. I’m sure
we will see each other again.” She slung her backpack over her
shoulder.

“
We will, miss. I’m to be
your driver.”

Melinda’s mouth dropped open. “My
driver?”

“
I’m to take you wherever
you need to go, as per Mr. Cole’s instructions.”

She bit down on her lower lip,
fighting against the urge to ask Bob a million and one questions
about Nathan Cole’s integrity.

“
Mr. Cole said you don’t
have a car,” Bob added, eyeing her perplexed face.

Melinda tugged at the backpack on her
shoulder. “No, I don’t.”

“
Then you’ll need a car to
get around to meetings with Mr. Cole’s clients, and to run any
errands since you don’t know the area. Things are a little more
spread out here than the French Quarter.”

Melinda was appeased by his
explanation. She would need a car to run errands, and until she got
to know the neighborhood, she might feel more comfortable being
driven instead of walking the streets in the Warehouse
District.

“
Thank you, Bob. I never
thought of that.”

“
Mr. Cole thinks of
everything.” He nodded to the building entrance. “You can check in
at the security desk. They’ll have your apartment keys.”

Inside, Melinda found a tastefully
decorated lobby with cozy furniture done in hues of deep forest
green and beige set against richly-paneled mahogany walls. A brass
chandelier hung from a plaster medallion in the center of a ceiling
supported by rough-hewn cypress beams. At the end of the lobby,
next to a single pair of silver elevator doors, was a Queen Anne
desk with a brass lamp and a rugged security guard sitting behind
it. As she took a few steps deeper into the lobby, a sudden rush of
cool air blew past her. She got a quick impression of a man in
chains, running for his life.

“
Yep,” she muttered. “It’s
haunted.”

While pondering the added complication
of ghosts, Melinda approached the security desk.

“
I’m Melinda Harris. Mr.
Cole’s new … assistant,” Melinda told the guard, trying not to
sound as nervous as she felt.

“
Welcome to The Shallows,
Miss Harris,” the thick guard said as he stood from the
desk.

Melinda gawked as the man rose to his
full height. Towering above her, she guessed he must have been well
over six-foot-five. His swarthy complexion, beady black eyes, and
jet-black curly hair made him appear even more intimidating than
his bulging biceps and tree-trunk-sized neck.

“
Mr. Cole told me to help
get you settled in, Miss Harris,” the security guard said in an
unusually deep voice. “He wanted to be here to greet you, but got
called away on business.” He removed an envelope from a side drawer
of the desk and handed it to her. “Here are two sets of keys. One
set opens the front door to the building, and the other opens your
apartment. We have a security guard on duty twenty-four hours a day
here at the front desk, so if you ever need us there is an intercom
system in your apartment to call for assistance. I’m Phil, and I
cover mornings and afternoons during the week. Les handles the
night shift. On the weekends, Mel and Harry cover the desk.” He
paused and waved a massive hand at the large window overlooking the
street. “Parking for tenants is contracted with a garage across the
street.”

Melinda felt the weight of the
envelope in her hand. “Thanks, Phil, but I don’t have a
car.”

Phil smiled and the darkness in his
black eyes lifted. “Mr. Cole told me, but in case you have friends
come over to visit, they can park in the garage instead of on the
street.” He winked. “The meter maids patrol this part of town like
hungry pit bulls.”

Melinda grinned. “I’ll keep that in
mind.”

“
The cable guy just left
your apartment, so you’re good to go with the Internet and
television. The building also has free Wi-Fi service for the
tenants. The phones for your apartment were hooked up yesterday.
The phone number is on a slip of paper in your
envelope.”

“
Wow, Mr. Cole sure doesn’t
waste any time.”

Phil came around the side of the desk.
“No, ma’am. He likes his tenants to feel at home as quickly as
possible. Plus, you’re an employee. He always goes all out for his
employees.”

“
Do you like working for
Mr. Cole?” she asked as a vision of Phil holding doors for tenants
and answering complaints flashed across her mind.

“
Yes, ma’am,” he firmly
replied. “You’ll like it here. Mr. Cole is a good man to work
for.”

Oddly, that was not the impression
that suddenly filled her depths. Snapshots of Nathan Cole coming
and going at all hours floated across her mind’s eye. In some of
the flashes he was alone, in others he was with a variety of
attractive women.

“
A good man to work for,
but is he a good man, Phil?” Melinda questioned, studying the
security guard.

The color drained from Phil’s face.
His eyes darted back and forth. “Ah, yes, he’s good to all of
us—”

“
Never mind, Phil,” Melinda
interrupted, already knowing the answer.

The moving van arrived in front of the
building, and Phil looked almost relieved to see the big
truck.

“
I’ll get the movers
started with the unloading.” He glanced down at Melinda. “Why don’t
you go up and check out your apartment? You can be deciding what
you want to keep and what you want to put into storage.”

“
Storage? I don’t
understand.”

“
Your apartment is already
furnished, Miss Harris. Mr. Cole said you might want to keep a few
of your things, but if there is anything you want to put into
storage, I’m to make the arrangements.”

“
Furniture someone else
picked out,” Melinda mumbled as she remembered her previous
impression of her apartment.

“
Ma’am?” Phil implored with
a confused grimace.

Melinda clutched the envelope in her
hand. “I’ll just go up and check out my new place.”

“
Take the elevator to the
fifth floor. Your apartment is just down the hall from Mr. Cole’s
penthouse. You have a nice view of the river. I hope you will be
happy here, Miss Harris.”

Phil rushed out to the street and
began barking orders at the three moving men, and then the same odd
chill overtook her. She glanced about the lobby, and for a moment
she could have sworn she was being watched. Then she felt a
presence in the area around her. She caught a glimpse of a young
man in chains, reaching out his arms to her. Melinda thought of
something warm and cheerful, like toasting marshmallows over a
bonfire or opening Christmas presents. It was the best defense she
knew against spirits who wanted to be heard.

“
It’ll get better,” she
assured herself as she turned for the elevator. “Once I get settled
in and start my job, I can get on with my life.”
By the time she pressed the call button for the elevator, Melinda
had convinced herself she would come to love The Shallows. Soon,
the dark energies enveloping her would fade and her mind would once
again be peaceful. But then her grandmother’s warning came to
her.

“
Ignoring the gift is as
bad as abusing it,” Grandma Teresa had once told her. “When you
ignore a sore it gets infected and becomes painful. The gift is the
same way. Never ignore the signs, my girl. You might live to regret
it.”

The elevator doors whooshed open and
Melinda jumped. “Enough already,” she complained.

Inside the elevator, she hit the
number five button on the console and waited for the doors to
close. Within seconds, she was being lifted up as a bad rendition
of a Barry Manilow tune played over the speaker. Remembering the
envelope in her hand, Melinda ripped it open and pulled out the
keys. A label attached to one set of keys had 5A written on it.
When the elevator doors opened on the fifth floor, she cautiously
stuck her head out and took a look around.

The corridor was brightly lit, and
directly in front of her were darkly stained double doors. She
walked up to the doors, and then she glanced down the corridor. At
the end of a short hall covered with burgundy carpet was another
dark door with 5A painted on it in gold.

“
I guess this is me.” She
peered back at the double doors. “When Nathan said he wanted me
close by, he wasn’t kidding.”

Melinda held her breath as she pushed
her new apartment door open. Initially, a blaze of bright sunlight
blinded her, but after a few seconds she was able to make out a
wall of windows along the far end of the living room. The light
reflected off gold flecks imbedded in a beige sofa and a
comfy-looking armchair. Next to the chair was a walnut end table
and a kidney-shaped glass coffee table. An entertainment center
against the wall next to the kitchen even had a flat screen
television on it. With shiny hardwood floors and framed posters of
New Orleans landmarks covering the pale yellow walls, it was a
palace compared to the apartment she had left behind.