Last Breath

56

C.J. reached the wall at the far end of the warehouse and groped for an exit, any kind of exit, a door or a window or a hole to crawl through. There was nothing, just smooth metal that stretched in all directions like a sheet of solid darkness.

Stop. Think.

There was no exit. The window was the only way in or out. The doors were padlocked from the outside. She had seen the heavy locks and chains.

She was stuck in here, and Adam was with her.

She’d been waiting for a flashlight to come on, but he must not have a flash. He would find her anyway. He had all the time he needed, and she had no place to hide.

The worst thing was that she couldn’t tell if he was right behind her or fifty yards away. The screaming alarm covered any sound of footsteps.

Covered her own footsteps too. She ought to be grateful for that, but she was past being grateful for anything.

Her ambush had failed. She had worked it out so carefully, and in the end all she’d accomplished was to get herself trapped in a steel cage with a madman.

Nice going, Killer. Real slick.

She didn’t think he’d even been hurt. When he’d called out to her, she had heard no weakness in his voice, only rage-and an edge of hysteria.

He was out of control. There was no telling what he would do to her, how bad it might be…

That line of thought would get her nowhere. She needed a strategy.

The window was her only way out. If she could slip past Adam in the dark, then climb through the window unobserved…

She took a step toward the fireglow dimly visible in the window on the opposite side of the warehouse, and then there was silence, slamming down like a hammer.

The alarm had shut off.

She stopped, aware that Adam could hear her footsteps if she moved.

The glow in the window died away. The last light in the room vanished.

No sound. No light. Utter stillness.

She waited, suspended in an ocean of darkness, with only the contact between her sneakers and the floor to convince her that she was still part of physical reality.

Then Adam’s voice, echoing around her. “You can’t hide, C.J. I can hear you breathing. I can hear the pounding of your goddamned heart.”

He was trying to goad her into answering or running. Either way she would reveal her position.

But she couldn’t just stand here.

She still had to get to the window-if she could find it with no light to guide her.

She crouched, untied her sneakers, pulled them off, and tied them by the laces to a belt loop on her cargo shorts. Her socks came off next; they were slippery, and she needed traction on the smooth floor. She wadded them up, stuffed them in her pocket. Then stood.

The floor was cold against the soles of her feet. She took an experimental step, then another.

He couldn’t hear her. Couldn’t see her.

She froze. Heard something.

Footsteps. The click of hard soles on stone.

Unlike her, he hadn’t taken off his shoes.

How close was he?

Couldn’t tell. But she could judge the direction. He was on her left.

Click. Click.

Coming closer.

Did he know where she was? Could he really hear her breathing, her heartbeat, as he’d claimed?

She untied one of the sneakers from her belt. Waited, standing with shoulders hunched, eyes darting uselessly.

Another footstep. Very close.

She threw the sneaker behind her. It hit the floor with a soft thud.

Laughter. “Think I’m stupid, C.J.?”

He hadn’t been fooled. Was still coming.

Her only hope was an all-out sprint to the window.

She ran And there was a shock of impact, a body heavier than hers flung against her, driving her down, and Adam saying, “Game’s over, bitch.”