Page 207 of Somebody's Watching Me

Finally, the call connected, but no one spoke.

Samuel frowned. “Hello?”

Breathing. Hard puffs of air as if the person on the other end were straining for air.

“Simone?”

A feminine giggle assaulted his ears. “No.”

“Who is this?” There were shouts in the background, along with the occasional whoop of a police siren. “Where’s Simone?”

“Simone can’t come to the phone right now,” the woman said matter-of-factly, the sick glee in her voice growing. “She’s playing just like you’re about to play.”

“We’re not playing anything.”

“Oh yes, you are, Samuel Fairweather,” the woman whispered with a cough. “Run, run, run as fast as you can.”