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“I need help,” the girl said in a pitiful whisper. “My name is Anna.”
By the sound of her voice, she couldn’t have been more than ten years old, but that’s all Matt Murdock ventured to guess. Curiosity made him left his coffee and approach the hollow with light step.
“I can see you need help,” Karen said, her hand putting a lock of her hair behind her ear. “What happened, Anna?”
“There was a man with a knife.”
“Hmmm…”
Karen’s voice was alarmed and concerned, there was a bit of growl at the back of her throat. The muted knock of her knees touching the floor was a bit too heavy.
“He hit me here.”
“Foggy!” Karen called out, her heartbeat was frantic, and her sweat was sour and mixed with her fresh perfume, “Matt!”
Foggy’s weight made his chair whine. His heavy steps rushed to the reception. His fingers – covered in Doritos grease and dust – needed two attempts to turn the old knob. The freshly greased hinges turned with the faintest friction of metal on metal. Foggy’s pulse was fast, but got even quicker by the time the doorknob hit the wall. Matt could smell the cloud of pulverized cast.
“Holly…!”
The next steps were slower and way more cautious. Foggy rested his weight on the desk; the legs scrapped the floor with a penetrating noise.
“Karen, a word, if you please.”
“Foggy…”
The floor creaked when Foggy lean over and grabbed Karen by the arm. He was too gentle, Karen’s sleeve made a very weak sound when his fingertips closed over the fabric.
“Is that a wound?” Foggy made a brief pause between each word.
Matt knew that Foggy used that strategy to keep his nerves in check.
“It is, Foggy.” Karen crossed her arms under her bosom, spreading the aroma of her goose-bumped skin in the air.
“Then, how is she still speaking?”
Matt crossed himself devoutly, because that piercing question managed to convince him beyond any doubt.
The front door never opened, yet Nelson and Murdock, attorneys at law, had just been visited by a ghost.