inside and with the music playing and the general buzz of talking and serving, it would be unlikely anyone inside would hear her if she called for help.
Go back to your apartment, lock yourself inside, and call the police.
And tell them what? That you’re spooked over some creepydiary entry from forty years ago? Yeah, they’d love to hear that, especially after her phone call today, asking for an update on their nonexistent investigation on her break-in. Sabine got the impression that if Leroy and company never heard from her or Maryse again as long as they lived, it would be too soon. The Mudbug police were well-equipped to deal with drunk and disorderlies, or poaching, or off-season hunting, but breaking and entering and murder went a bit beyond their scope.
Then another thought crossed her mind—what if it was Hank? He wasn’t exactly square with the local law, so hiding behind a bunch of crates waiting to talk to her wouldn’t be a stretch. “Hank? Is that you?” Silence.
She bit her lower lip, then pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She pressed in 9-1-1 and slipped her phone into her palm, her thumb hovering over the Talk button. At least she could scream. They wouldn’t have any idea where she was making the call from, but the police station was at the far end of town and surely someone would come running outside if she made the call. Surely.
She took a deep breath and headed toward the crates. One, two, three, four, five, she counted each step as she went, like knowing the number somehow made a difference. The crates were only twenty feet or so away and she stood stock still, trying to make out any shift in the shadows cast out into the street, straining to hear anything besides the wind blowing between the buildings.
Nothing.
She let out her breath and shook her head. You’re imagining things, Sabine, and the only thing you’re accomplishing is scaring yourself. What was the point? If she wanted to lay wide-eyed in her bed all night, there was a twenty-four-hour run of horror movies on one of the local channels. At least that way she could have dry, non-blinking eyes and a pounding heart in the comfort of her pajamas and her bed. Not to mention a glass of wine to thin the blood and a double-fudge chocolate brownie to top off the sugar coma.
Then something moved again, just beyond the crates.
If she hadn’t been looking directly at the shadows cast far out into the street, she would have missed the tiny sliver of movement, but she was certain she hadn’t imagined it. Something was behind those crates. The shadow had seemed too long for an animal, so that left only one other option. And the only reason to lurk in the shadows was if you were up to no good.
She tightened her grip on her phone and leaned over to the side, trying to peer beneath the car. “Hank, is that you? If it is, come out. You’re giving me the creeps.”
And that’s when he rammed her, his shoulder catching her right in the collar bone.
She’d grossly miscalculated, Sabine thought as she slammed down onto the sidewalk. He hadn’t been behind the crates. He’d been hiding in the shadows on the side of the car, not five feet from where she’d stopped to listen. She screamed as she hit the ground, pain shooting through her shoulder as it took the brunt of the fall. She struggled to press the Talk button on her cell phone, but the fall had jostled it in her hand, and Sabine was certain the call didn’t make it through.
She rolled over and jumped up as fast as possible,knowing that a standing opponent was in a much better position to defend themselves than one lying down, but she was no sooner standing than the ski-masked figure shoved her, trying to knock her to the ground again. Sabine struggled to maintain her balance, and for a moment, she didn’t think she was going to manage. But at the last moment, she managed to spin around and clock the masked figure in the shoulder with her heel.
The attacker stumbled
Go back to your apartment, lock yourself inside, and call the police.
And tell them what? That you’re spooked over some creepydiary entry from forty years ago? Yeah, they’d love to hear that, especially after her phone call today, asking for an update on their nonexistent investigation on her break-in. Sabine got the impression that if Leroy and company never heard from her or Maryse again as long as they lived, it would be too soon. The Mudbug police were well-equipped to deal with drunk and disorderlies, or poaching, or off-season hunting, but breaking and entering and murder went a bit beyond their scope.
Then another thought crossed her mind—what if it was Hank? He wasn’t exactly square with the local law, so hiding behind a bunch of crates waiting to talk to her wouldn’t be a stretch. “Hank? Is that you?” Silence.
She bit her lower lip, then pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She pressed in 9-1-1 and slipped her phone into her palm, her thumb hovering over the Talk button. At least she could scream. They wouldn’t have any idea where she was making the call from, but the police station was at the far end of town and surely someone would come running outside if she made the call. Surely.
She took a deep breath and headed toward the crates. One, two, three, four, five, she counted each step as she went, like knowing the number somehow made a difference. The crates were only twenty feet or so away and she stood stock still, trying to make out any shift in the shadows cast out into the street, straining to hear anything besides the wind blowing between the buildings.
Nothing.
She let out her breath and shook her head. You’re imagining things, Sabine, and the only thing you’re accomplishing is scaring yourself. What was the point? If she wanted to lay wide-eyed in her bed all night, there was a twenty-four-hour run of horror movies on one of the local channels. At least that way she could have dry, non-blinking eyes and a pounding heart in the comfort of her pajamas and her bed. Not to mention a glass of wine to thin the blood and a double-fudge chocolate brownie to top off the sugar coma.
Then something moved again, just beyond the crates.
If she hadn’t been looking directly at the shadows cast far out into the street, she would have missed the tiny sliver of movement, but she was certain she hadn’t imagined it. Something was behind those crates. The shadow had seemed too long for an animal, so that left only one other option. And the only reason to lurk in the shadows was if you were up to no good.
She tightened her grip on her phone and leaned over to the side, trying to peer beneath the car. “Hank, is that you? If it is, come out. You’re giving me the creeps.”
And that’s when he rammed her, his shoulder catching her right in the collar bone.
She’d grossly miscalculated, Sabine thought as she slammed down onto the sidewalk. He hadn’t been behind the crates. He’d been hiding in the shadows on the side of the car, not five feet from where she’d stopped to listen. She screamed as she hit the ground, pain shooting through her shoulder as it took the brunt of the fall. She struggled to press the Talk button on her cell phone, but the fall had jostled it in her hand, and Sabine was certain the call didn’t make it through.
She rolled over and jumped up as fast as possible,knowing that a standing opponent was in a much better position to defend themselves than one lying down, but she was no sooner standing than the ski-masked figure shoved her, trying to knock her to the ground again. Sabine struggled to maintain her balance, and for a moment, she didn’t think she was going to manage. But at the last moment, she managed to spin around and clock the masked figure in the shoulder with her heel.
The attacker stumbled
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