Page 55 of The Woman in the Hollow
“Yes,” I whispered to myself.
The garden center would probably be empty. But it was close to the highway, to cars, to people who might help. Or at the very least, call the police.
The trees thinned.
I burst into the open field, morning light spilling over the fallen stalks of corn and the occasional pile of pumpkin guts.
My legs nearly gave out when I hit the soft soil, my shoes digging into the fresh earth.
I didn’t look back to see if he was still behind me. I couldn’t.
Better to focus on where I was heading.
My lungs screamed for air. My legs felt made of jelly and elastic, everything wobbly and weak.
Still, I flew forward toward the haunted house.
My palm skidded uselessly on the splintered wood door.
Locked.
Of course, it was locked.
I jiggled the handle, rattled it hard enough to make the hinges shake.
The door gave a tired creak, but nothing else.
Leaves crunched behind me.
I spun, but there was no one there.
No one there?
Where could he have gone? What made that crunching sound?
My stomach flipped, memories of the last time I’d been ‘chased’ through the woods.
Was it all in my head? Was all the fear and adrenaline making me conjure up images that weren’t there?
No.
No, damn it. I’d seen him. I’d kicked him.
Maybe he’d just seen how exposed we were now and decided to turn and make a run for it before someone came to my rescue.
I inched up the building, the cramp in my side like a white-hot stab as I kept moving.
From what I could tell, none of Dante’s men were standing around. It was probably too early. Everyone was likely still warm in their beds, waiting to climb out from under the covers until the promise of coffee motivated them enough.
I had nowhere to go. None of the businesses up or down the highway would be open yet, save for the convenience store a few complexes down.
And my car was on the other side of the woods still.
I reached for my pocket, figuring I could call for a ride. Or just bite the bullet and reach out to the police.
Only to find an empty pocket.
My mind flashed back to the woods, to when I’d seen the man.
