Page 56 of Traitor
I’m two steps from the kitchen when I hear it. A loud, unmistakable thump, but in the direction of my room. I twist and leap in one bound and land hard in the hallway, skidding into the wall opposite with a crash. I pause, trying to discern their response, but all I hear is my own heartbeat. They must know they aren’t alone now.
I put my back to the bathroom and consider the two closed doors, the possibilities. The spare room or mine. I choose the spare, but no one is there, then sprint for my bedroom. I swing open the door, heart galloping in my chest.
And find another empty room.
The side window had been smashed out—that must have been the crash I heard. Broken glass litters the floor and a chilly breeze washes over my face, drawing my attention to the cold sweat clinging to my brow. I double-check the closet, under the bed, behind the door, but it’s pointless.
Whoever was here is long gone.
The police arrive and take a report, drawing the attention of my neighbors. By the time they leave, I feel more of a fool than I have in a long, long time. Probably some kids messing around, they said. Or maybe my boyfriend is tangled up with some nasty people and I should ditch him.
Despite the body they’d found, they didn’t believe me.
I know what I heard. What I saw. What I felt. Those things had to be real.
Didn’t they? Or am I chasing ghosts?
