Page 54 of Fire and Bones

Throwing back the covers, I got out of bed and padded across the zebra carpet.

Halfway to the door, a sound stopped me in my tracks.

Scritch.

Fabric scraping a wall?

I froze, every sense straining for further input.

My ears took in nothing but the echo of empty space.

What are you, Brennan? Four years old?

I was reaching for the knob when something went clump on the far side of the door.

A footfall?

Whose?

At night, the hall outside my room was lit by motion-activated foot-level spots. I glanced at the crack where the door met the carpet. Noted soft illumination.

Two dark shapes silhouetted in the dim glow.

Feet?

Spread wide in an aggressive stance?

My heart tossed in a few extra beats.

What to do?

Scream?

Lock myself in the bathroom?

Throw open the door?

Swallowing through my dryness, I tiptoed to my suitcase and withdrew a small key-chain baton. Received as a gift from my baby sister following a YMCA course on self-protection, it had been tucked into a compartment and forgotten. Until now.

Thank you, Harry.

Death-gripping the tiny steel bar, I recrossed to the door.

Ready to come face-to-face with anyone from a hophead junkie to Charlie Manson.

CHAPTER 13

A man stood there, a huge one, right hand raised, fingers curled into a fist.

Prepared to knock?

To attack?

The man’s face was in shadow, only his lower legs pulled from the gloom by the discretely placed spots.

I saw boots. Cargo pants.

The man leaned toward me.