deposit her right into her bed where a teddy bear and
comforter waited along with a nice bottle of white wine cooling in the
refrigerator.
True she wasn't going to look at her watch which meant showing
stark white skin against the night; but, taking into account how long
the bus normally took and the faster than normal walking pace, it
couldn't be later than 9:30. Her stomach didn't care about the math
and let all the blood go straight to her legs as instantaneous fuel.
Her mind wasn't the slightest bit helpful and recollected the last
three police blotters in the local paper, tallying the average time for
person on person attacks. Yep, just as her stomach was trying to tell
her. She was statistically in the window of potential threat, and
proving her parents right in telling her math was useful in daily life.
Sure, useful to the sales of Xanax and alcohol, not to the improvement
of sanity.
She took a deep breath and let her nerves fill her ears with
pounding so she couldn't latch on to the odd swish of the grass behind
her. Vacationing on a farm growing up, she knew the sound a farm
cat made lurking in the grass, but she wasn't on the farm nor were
there farm cats here.
Pounding blood was the better alternative, and Gillian was grateful
her heart fluttered. The extra warmth from palpitations provided a
barrier against the dankness creeping up her legs with every step on
the mildewed planks. She broke into a run when the shaky planks
ended, dashing the few hundred feet necessary to the warehouse's
fusion lights.
Watering eyes served no handicap in thrusting her hand into her
pocket in extracting the key she had at the ready. Blinking, she
jiggled the key into the lock and ratcheted the door open, slamming it
behind her in a solid, gratifying thud and throwing the bolt in place.
The warehouse lights were already on.
55
This time the throbbing in her temples did nothing to conceal the
steady thump of approaching feet. Her nerves must have turned up
the amplitude of hearing, because the creature coming around the
bend sounded ten feet tall and made of molten steel solidified into
bipedal form.
She pressed her back into the door, trying to merge with the paper
thin metal. Gillian wanted to curl into a little ball with her arms and
legs clutched into her torso, but she was afraid to take her eyes off the
doorway opposite her that lead into the main warehouse.
It was 9:30ish. Who the heck was here at this unholy hour? For
that matter why in the world did she feel a need to be here? Maybe her
sister was right about being overly committed, or was that
committable? Any more time in this place after dark and she was
going to commit herself for the padded cell protection against the
dark.
The lights of the warehouse weren't doing much for her sense of
safety. Garish on the outside, the lights gave shadows too much
leniency in being seductively evil in looking like places to hide.
No one stayed late even on pickup nights. The drivers had the
combination to the delivery bays and all the boxes were clearly
delineated by destination, day staff was unnecessary. It didn't matter
that she was here against her own reasoning. No one else should be
here and drivers didn't go this far into the building.
Drivers came in pairs and only one set of feet approached. Oh,
God, this was a burglary and one of the drivers was coming to find
and get rid of her before she could call the police; which meant, the
noises outside had been a henchman on patrol. This was a trap.
Gillian stuffed her heart back into her chest and wet her throat
enough to formulate a scream. Her chest labored to get enough
oxygen pent up for a riotous explosion of sound when her throat
seized midway into creating raucous noise.
The doorway was blotted out or was that filled to capacity with a
man-like form?
Gillian's throat overcame the shock and went for a full blast of
screams that left her huffing and panting for
comforter waited along with a nice bottle of white wine cooling in the
refrigerator.
True she wasn't going to look at her watch which meant showing
stark white skin against the night; but, taking into account how long
the bus normally took and the faster than normal walking pace, it
couldn't be later than 9:30. Her stomach didn't care about the math
and let all the blood go straight to her legs as instantaneous fuel.
Her mind wasn't the slightest bit helpful and recollected the last
three police blotters in the local paper, tallying the average time for
person on person attacks. Yep, just as her stomach was trying to tell
her. She was statistically in the window of potential threat, and
proving her parents right in telling her math was useful in daily life.
Sure, useful to the sales of Xanax and alcohol, not to the improvement
of sanity.
She took a deep breath and let her nerves fill her ears with
pounding so she couldn't latch on to the odd swish of the grass behind
her. Vacationing on a farm growing up, she knew the sound a farm
cat made lurking in the grass, but she wasn't on the farm nor were
there farm cats here.
Pounding blood was the better alternative, and Gillian was grateful
her heart fluttered. The extra warmth from palpitations provided a
barrier against the dankness creeping up her legs with every step on
the mildewed planks. She broke into a run when the shaky planks
ended, dashing the few hundred feet necessary to the warehouse's
fusion lights.
Watering eyes served no handicap in thrusting her hand into her
pocket in extracting the key she had at the ready. Blinking, she
jiggled the key into the lock and ratcheted the door open, slamming it
behind her in a solid, gratifying thud and throwing the bolt in place.
The warehouse lights were already on.
55
This time the throbbing in her temples did nothing to conceal the
steady thump of approaching feet. Her nerves must have turned up
the amplitude of hearing, because the creature coming around the
bend sounded ten feet tall and made of molten steel solidified into
bipedal form.
She pressed her back into the door, trying to merge with the paper
thin metal. Gillian wanted to curl into a little ball with her arms and
legs clutched into her torso, but she was afraid to take her eyes off the
doorway opposite her that lead into the main warehouse.
It was 9:30ish. Who the heck was here at this unholy hour? For
that matter why in the world did she feel a need to be here? Maybe her
sister was right about being overly committed, or was that
committable? Any more time in this place after dark and she was
going to commit herself for the padded cell protection against the
dark.
The lights of the warehouse weren't doing much for her sense of
safety. Garish on the outside, the lights gave shadows too much
leniency in being seductively evil in looking like places to hide.
No one stayed late even on pickup nights. The drivers had the
combination to the delivery bays and all the boxes were clearly
delineated by destination, day staff was unnecessary. It didn't matter
that she was here against her own reasoning. No one else should be
here and drivers didn't go this far into the building.
Drivers came in pairs and only one set of feet approached. Oh,
God, this was a burglary and one of the drivers was coming to find
and get rid of her before she could call the police; which meant, the
noises outside had been a henchman on patrol. This was a trap.
Gillian stuffed her heart back into her chest and wet her throat
enough to formulate a scream. Her chest labored to get enough
oxygen pent up for a riotous explosion of sound when her throat
seized midway into creating raucous noise.
The doorway was blotted out or was that filled to capacity with a
man-like form?
Gillian's throat overcame the shock and went for a full blast of
screams that left her huffing and panting for
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