THIRTEENA half-step behind Sandie, Mike heard it, too.
And it was mind-blowing. It sounded like angels, he thought, but he knew better than that. There was a far more down-to-earth explanation sitting on the couch – or at least, a more tangible one, he corrected himself. There were goose bumps on his arms and a shiver deep inside his spine, a sense of something not quite right. Still, he let himself stop in the doorway to listen, and for a moment, just a moment, he let himself fly.
Then the sound stopped, and that thing was standing at the end of the hall, its bald head c****d to one side, staring at them through impassive black eyes. The elation began to ebb, and Mike shook himself, entertaining a sneaking suspicion that John Doe was sucking up his happiness like a sponge. That was fair
