Love Bytes by Dahlia DeWinters

Rogers?
    Reaching the bank of cabinets, she opened a door, scurried into the empty space, thankful beyond thanks that the space was unoccupied. The cedar smell of the wood comforted her and she reached up to turn the thumb lock, a small barrier against the predators outside. The cabinet she was in was part of a long line of cabinets. They would have to open each one in turn in order to find her.
    Violet closed her eyes and shrunk herself in a tight ball, pressing herself against the back of the closet.
     
    ****
     
    Hurrying down the darkened hallway, Francis’ eyes adjusted to the dim light. He kept the MagLite down at his side, encouraged by the heavy weight of the flashlight. The police would be here within minutes and he wanted to have a brief conversation with Rogers and Joe. Up the hall, he could see the shadow of Rogers standing at the door of the programming lab.
    “Rogers!” He pasted on an expression of concern. “I got the alarm that the power went off. Glad that you got here so fast.”
    As he spoke, he advanced upon Rogers and shined the light in the man’s face, blinding him. Then, with a swift flick of his wrist, he slammed the flashlight against Rogers’s temple, felling him like a tree.
    “You piece of crap.” Francis kicked him in the lower back and the man groaned. “Where’s Violet?”
    “I don’t know…in the lab, I guess.” Rogers put a hand to his head, stared at the dark liquid on his palm. “I’m bleeding, Francis.”
    Francis delivered another vicious kick to Rogers’s lower back, taking a grim satisfaction in the man’s cry of pain. “I hope you piss blood for a week. By the way, you’re fired.”
    He left him on the floor and stood in the doorway of the lab, shone the light around. It was so quiet he could hear his own breathing, an animal-like panting that was harsh in his ears. Violet.
    “Vee?” He took a few steps into the room. “Violet?”
    The red light of the police cars swirled on the ceiling. He continued his search.
    “Violet?”
    His foot hit something soft and he shined the light downward, his heart lurching in his chest. Don’t let it be Vee. He snorted when he saw stunned Joe. “I hope she got you good, you bastard.”
    He stepped over Joe’s prone body and continued toward the back of the room. “Violet? Where are you?”
    The lights snapped on then and the room crowded with police officers telling him to get on the floor, get on the floor, NOW!
    Francis dropped his flashlight and did what they said.
     
    ****
     
    Violet huddled in the closet, arms wrapped around her knees.
    “Vee?”
    The breath caught in her throat and she ceased her back and forth rocking. In the dark, she reached for the lock, and then shrank back. What if it wasn’t Francis?
    All at once, there were voices, male voices, shouts, and unintelligible words. A sliver of light appeared under the closet door. The power was back on but still she waited. More discussion and a tap on the door.
    “Violet Connolly? It’s the police. Please come out.”
    Francis’ voice: “Let me talk to her.”
    “Stand back, please, Mr. Rushmore. Ms. Connelly. Come out. Keep your hands where we can see them, please.”
    Violet reached up and turned the thumb lock. The door swung open and she was looking in to the barrel of a gun. She stuck her shaking hands out, squinting against the sudden bright light, looking around for Francis.
    Someone grabbed her, pulled her up and she had a vague recollection of badges, uniforms, and red lights before she passed out in Francis’ arms.
     

Chapter Fifteen
     
    After being treated for her injuries, talking to the police and promising not to leave the state, Violet allowed Francis to walk her to his car. She sat silent during the ride, grateful that Francis didn’t question her about what happened. The ride was uneventful, the late night traffic light and easy to navigate.
    She had been to Francis’ house only once, when they had waited for the car service to the