knew about that charming habit.
If I wait long enough, I’ll catch him, she thought. And then I’ll cut his balls off . Maybe not literally, but she knew plenty of divorce lawyers who would love to sink their teeth into a case like this. And then he would pay dearly.
Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she hadn’t had anything to eat since twelve thirty, and even then she had only scarfed down half a bagel and a cup of tea. Right about now a Stouffer’s Pizza sounded good, and she decided to get one out of the freezer in the basement. First she pulled out a Diet Coke from the fridge and set it on the kitchen table.
The first thing she noticed when she opened the basement door was the smell, sour and pungent. What in the world could cause such an awful reek? she wondered. Maybe a squirrel or a mouse had gotten trapped and died somewhere.
She flipped the light switch and got nothing.
Hmm. Fuse must’ve blown .
After retrieving a flashlight from the junk drawer in the kitchen, she padded down the stairs in her bare feet, hoping Bob hadn’t left any nails lying around. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, the odor hit her again. She couldn’t place it, but it was vaguely chemical, with an undertone of raw sewage mixed in.
At the bottom of the stairs, she turned left to where the refrigerator stood against the wall. It was an old avocado-colored Amana, their first fridge. They retired it to the basement for storing frozen pizzas, pot pies, and other frozen junk food years ago.
The fuse box was to the right of the fridge, and Rhonda shone her light on the box and opened the door. The fuse in the socket for the basement and the corresponding section of the upstairs had been removed. Damnit, she’d been after Bob to get the electric updated for years. Now she had to find the fuse.
She flicked her beam to the floor and saw the fuse on the floor near the basement wall. At first she thought maybe it had simply dropped from the box, but she realized it couldn’t have fallen to the floor because the door was shut and latched.
What if someone was in the house and had pulled that fuse out on purpose? And she was alone. Rhonda shivered and her hair stood on end.
Then a growl came from the shadows behind her. Spinning around, she saw to her left, opposite the stairs, only Bob’s workbench and rows of screwdrivers and pliers hung on Peg Board hooks. Absurdly, she thought how he hadn’t fixed anything in two months and wondered why he even bothered keeping the tools. He had even left a screwdriver on the floor. And that damned gas can he insisted on leaving down here!
There was a storage room whose wall ran perpendicular to the workbench. The door was closed. She switched the beam from the door to the window between the bench and the storage room. The glass had been smashed out.
Get to the stairs and call the cops. But don’t panic , she thought.
More grunting came from behind the door. And that smell, churning her stomach.
She almost made it to the top stairs when the storage room door flew open, slamming against the wall like a gunshot. Powerful hands grasped her legs a second later, it seemed, and dragged her back down and into the darkness. Rhonda fought; a nail snapped off.
She turned her head and looked at her attacker, the face inches from hers, and smelled its fetid breath. Urine dribbled down her leg as her bladder let go.
My God, I can’t die like this.
Harry Pierce flicked the light switch off, pulled the keys from his pocket and stepped outside Lincoln Firearms. He then locked the door and gave it a nudge to make sure it locked. Satisfied the door was secure, he rounded the corner of the store, passing the bow and arrow display in the front window.
He walked down Barker Avenue. Crickets chirped around him, and in a driveway across the street, a girl in a pink bathing suit jumped rope and recited a rhyme he had never heard before. He smiled. Cute little thing, she was.
He reached the
If I wait long enough, I’ll catch him, she thought. And then I’ll cut his balls off . Maybe not literally, but she knew plenty of divorce lawyers who would love to sink their teeth into a case like this. And then he would pay dearly.
Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she hadn’t had anything to eat since twelve thirty, and even then she had only scarfed down half a bagel and a cup of tea. Right about now a Stouffer’s Pizza sounded good, and she decided to get one out of the freezer in the basement. First she pulled out a Diet Coke from the fridge and set it on the kitchen table.
The first thing she noticed when she opened the basement door was the smell, sour and pungent. What in the world could cause such an awful reek? she wondered. Maybe a squirrel or a mouse had gotten trapped and died somewhere.
She flipped the light switch and got nothing.
Hmm. Fuse must’ve blown .
After retrieving a flashlight from the junk drawer in the kitchen, she padded down the stairs in her bare feet, hoping Bob hadn’t left any nails lying around. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, the odor hit her again. She couldn’t place it, but it was vaguely chemical, with an undertone of raw sewage mixed in.
At the bottom of the stairs, she turned left to where the refrigerator stood against the wall. It was an old avocado-colored Amana, their first fridge. They retired it to the basement for storing frozen pizzas, pot pies, and other frozen junk food years ago.
The fuse box was to the right of the fridge, and Rhonda shone her light on the box and opened the door. The fuse in the socket for the basement and the corresponding section of the upstairs had been removed. Damnit, she’d been after Bob to get the electric updated for years. Now she had to find the fuse.
She flicked her beam to the floor and saw the fuse on the floor near the basement wall. At first she thought maybe it had simply dropped from the box, but she realized it couldn’t have fallen to the floor because the door was shut and latched.
What if someone was in the house and had pulled that fuse out on purpose? And she was alone. Rhonda shivered and her hair stood on end.
Then a growl came from the shadows behind her. Spinning around, she saw to her left, opposite the stairs, only Bob’s workbench and rows of screwdrivers and pliers hung on Peg Board hooks. Absurdly, she thought how he hadn’t fixed anything in two months and wondered why he even bothered keeping the tools. He had even left a screwdriver on the floor. And that damned gas can he insisted on leaving down here!
There was a storage room whose wall ran perpendicular to the workbench. The door was closed. She switched the beam from the door to the window between the bench and the storage room. The glass had been smashed out.
Get to the stairs and call the cops. But don’t panic , she thought.
More grunting came from behind the door. And that smell, churning her stomach.
She almost made it to the top stairs when the storage room door flew open, slamming against the wall like a gunshot. Powerful hands grasped her legs a second later, it seemed, and dragged her back down and into the darkness. Rhonda fought; a nail snapped off.
She turned her head and looked at her attacker, the face inches from hers, and smelled its fetid breath. Urine dribbled down her leg as her bladder let go.
My God, I can’t die like this.
Harry Pierce flicked the light switch off, pulled the keys from his pocket and stepped outside Lincoln Firearms. He then locked the door and gave it a nudge to make sure it locked. Satisfied the door was secure, he rounded the corner of the store, passing the bow and arrow display in the front window.
He walked down Barker Avenue. Crickets chirped around him, and in a driveway across the street, a girl in a pink bathing suit jumped rope and recited a rhyme he had never heard before. He smiled. Cute little thing, she was.
He reached the
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