Shattered by Donna Ball Page A

imagined it when she felt a definite, distinct vibration. For a moment she couldn't move.
    The house was tall, supported at the base by twenty-foot-high pillars that were designed to give and sway with structural stress. In the very highest winds or most severe storms, one could actually feel the sway of the house, much like a boat at sea. Most of the time, however, the house was as solid as Gibraltar—with one notable exception. Even the lightest footfall on the spiral staircase in the master bedroom tower would cause the entire tower to pick up the percussive vibration, a sensation which was particularly noticeable on the rooftop deck. The tower was vibrating now, in rhythm with forceful and determined footsteps.
    Someone was in the house. And he was coming toward her fast.
    Carol snapped her head around toward the door that opened onto the roof. It was the only exit and an intruder was on the staircase. There was no lock, no way to keep him on his side of the door. Her eyes moved quickly toward the telephone, and she was levering herself out of the water, turning toward it, as the door swung open.
    The square of light from the door widened and Carol's heart slammed against her ribs. Her foot slipped on the step as she tried to scramble over the side of the tub and she banged her knee hard. A shooting pain went through her back and she cried out. She pushed herself up again and was on the ledge, propelling herself toward the bench and the telephone, when his shadow, long and grotesque and horribly exaggerated by the glare of light from the open tower door, fell over her.
    ~
     

Chapter Twelve
    C arol had one brief flash of stark terror that came with the realization of how vulnerable she was, alone and almost naked on a rooftop four stories above the ground, isolated by distance and wind from anyone who might hear her cries for help. Even if she could get to the telephone, it would be too late. Still, she tried to run, her heart closing up in her throat, but her wet feet slipped on the plank floor and she plunged forward. Then he was upon her, his hand hard on her shoulder, jerking her upright.
    Carol whirled and struck out hard with her fist just as he exclaimed, “Jesus Christ, Carol, what's the matter with you?”
    Her blow landed in the center of his chest and she drew back for another, but he stepped back and her fist just grazed his shoulder. “Damn it, Guy, are you crazy? You scared me half to death!”
    “Serves you right,” he responded, scowling. “I've been shouting for you for five minutes. Why didn't you answer? You could have been unconscious in the bathtub or held hostage at gunpoint as far as I knew.”
    “Oh, for God's sake! I can't believe you'd just walk in without knocking! You know I hate it when you do that.” Her heart was still racing and her face was hot; she felt foolish and mortified and awkward, standing there in her wet swimsuit with water dripping on the floor and her skin prickling with cold. She pushed past him to get her robe.
    “That's what keys are for.” He dangled his set in front of her face. “And I did knock, for your information.” And then he must have noticed the stiffness in her movements because his tone changed as he inquired, “Is your back bothering you again?”
    Carol pushed a damp hand through her hair, tying the sash of her robe. “What do you want, Guy?”
    He hesitated, in that way he had when what he was about to say was not exactly the truth. “I just wanted to see if the police got the equipment installed on your phone.”
    “You could have called to ask me that.” She walked toward the open door. To her surprise, he did not follow her.
    “Yeah, I guess I could have. I guess I was feeling a little edgy, wanted to see for myself.”
    “Well, the answer is yes. Is that all?” She had reached the door and she looked back impatiently, but he was half-turned from her now, gazing down at the beach.
    “No,” he said.
    She went into the house and down