Page 118 of Rags's Awakening
Then she ran.
She stumbled over cracked pavement, shoes skidding on wet, decaying leaves. A motion-sensor light on a vacant lot hissed to life, blinding her for a heartbeat, throwing a jagged shadow against a fence markedNO TRESSPASSING. She didn’t stop to see if it was hers or someone else’s.
Keep moving. Faster. Don’t look back.
Her lungs burned. Her gut twisted. Her heart felt like it might explode, but she kept running.
I’m almost home.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, her nose ran, but she didn’t slow down.
Please. Let me make it home safe.
She rounded the corner. Her front porch came into view.
Almost.
She sprinted up the steps, tripped, slammed onto her knees. Pain shot through her, but she didn’t care. She scrambled up, yanked out her keys, forced her shaking fingers to find the right one.
The door flew open.
She slammed it shut, locked it, and secured the deadbolt.
Gasping, she sagged against the door. The warm glow of her grandmother’s lamp grounded her.
“I’m home. I’m safe,” she whispered.
She peeked through the side window. The Johnsons across the street had lights on. The Andersons were pulling into theirdriveway, the rumble of their garage door the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.
Everything’s normal.
She scanned again. Nothing.
Then she laughed, loud and shaky from her belly.
No one was following me. I just scared the hell out of myself.
She texted Abby, then Sarah. Abby sent a thumbs-up emoji. Sarah replied with a pink, sparkling heart. Jessica smiled, grateful for friends who cared.
Then she heard something scrape behind her.
She froze.
“Thanks for the Bismarck, Jessica.”
Spinning around, she gasped, “It’s you. What’re you doing inside my home? How did you—”
Cool fingers closed around her throat. She clawed at them, but he was too strong.
Then everything went black.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Casey’s boots foughtfor traction against a sidewalk that had vanished under a foot of fresh snow. Her cheeks stung from the sharp, bracing chill, and puffs of white bloomed in front of her face as she hurried toward the theatre. The familiar storefront signs were hooded in snow, their edges blurred and softened.
She squinted against the glare of the midmorning sun reflecting off the drifts, which sparkled like a carpet of diamonds. The scent of cedar smoke and cold stone drifted down from chimneys above as a biting wind nipped at her ears and worked at turning her fingers numb inside her thick gloves.
The theatre door groaned as she shoved it open. She dashed down the hallway, veered right, and stepped into her office, her toes still tingling with the painful thaw that came with high-altitude cold. She shook the melting flakes from her coat then paused, sensing someone in the room. She turned. Slumped in one of the leather chairs was Scott—the last person Casey expected or wanted to see.What the fuck ishedoing here?Seeing him there, in the sanctuary of her weekday world, felt like a physical violation of her boundaries.
