With Open Eyes Read Online Free Page A

were—
    Her heart jumped into her throat.
    Shit. The cameras were in place, but the reassuring red glow of their power lights were nowhere to be seen.
    She did not break stride as she reached into her purse and gripped the rubber case of her mobile phone. She raised the phone and stared in disbelief at its illuminated screen.
    NO CARRIER.
    She was accustomed to losing her signal, but not her entire freaking phone company.
    This couldn’t be happening.
    “Need help, young lady?”
    A man stepped from the shadows in front of her. He wore dark tennis shoes, khakis, a T-shirt, and a pullover sweater similar to the one her grandfather wore. The man was probably over sixty, and his entire face crinkled as he smiled.
    He looked like a nice man, but she knew better than to lower her guard. Jeffrey Dahmer might have looked like a hell of a nice guy.
    She kept walking. “No problem. Have a good night.”
    “You, too.” He smiled again. “The Portland Street exit is closed. You’ll have to go out on Wesleyan.”
    She nodded and walked faster. This wasn’t news. The Portland Street exit was always closed after eight.
    Just a few more yards to her car…
    The man held a map of some kind. “Could you help me out with this? I’ve been wandering around this cockamamie garage for ten minutes trying to find a—”
    She made a wide arc around him as she neared her car. “I’m sorry, I’m in a hurry.”
    He took a step closer. And then another. “If you’ll just take a look at this…”
    The map fell away, revealing a glint of steel.
    Pain.
    She shuddered, unable to move.
    The man now stood next to her. He shook his head as he slowly pulled the blade from her abdomen. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You don’t deserve this.”
    She stared at him in disbelief, trying to reconcile the kind, regretful face with the horrible thing that was happening to her. She was falling, the floor of the parking garage rising up to meet her. She scarcely felt the impact. Her insides felt like cold concrete, hardening and making it impossible for her to move.
    Or breathe. She tried to scream, but there were only gurgling sounds in the back of her throat.
    The man wiped his bloody knife with a bandana. “Shh. It will be over soon, Stephanie.”
    He knew who she was.
    Then it hit her.
    They had found out.
    “Schuyler.” She pushed out the word.
    “Just relax.”
    “Tell Schuyler…” Darkness crept over her, from the back of her neck, over her skull, taking away thought, taking away everything that she was.
    She had to say it. Gotta get this out…
    “Yes, dear?” he asked gently.
    Her eyes fluttered as she summoned the last bit of energy her body would ever give her.
    “Tell Schuyler I said…to go to hell.”

Chapter 1
    KENDRA MICHAELS PULLED the strap over her head and adjusted her guitar in front of her. “We’re going to do something different today, Jimmy.”
    “No!”
    She ignored the outburst. Twelve-year-old Jimmy Matthews hated any variation in his routine, but she was determined to coax him, ever so slightly, from his comfort zone. “Look at me, okay?”
    Jimmy looked up at her, his dark eyes glittering with defiance. He was autistic, and it had taken weeks for him to feel comfortable enough to make eye contact with her. She’d regarded that as a major victory. She knew there were other breakthroughs to come, if only she could unlock the secrets of that bewildering yet fascinating mind of his.
    She held his gaze. “Jimmy, remember when I had you put your hand on my guitar last week? When I told you to feel the music?”
    He nodded.
    “You liked that, didn’t you?”
    He shrugged.
    “You could feel it, couldn’t you? I saw you tapping your fingers and moving your feet.”
    He thought for a moment. “I felt it all over.”
    “I know. And I thought to myself, this guy has rhythm. You know what that means, don’t you? It means you can feel the beat. You can feel it in your bones…and in your soul.”
    He looked