Page 75 of The Sleeping Girls
No desk or computer in sight.
Another pop of thunder made her jump and her gaze shot to the picture window. Trees swayed and leaves swirled in the downpour. She froze, thinking she saw movement, maybe someone running through the yard, but then realized it was simply an animal.
Taking a steadying breath, she walked to the right, passed a bedroom and bath combination. On the opposite side was a second bedroom Caitlin was using as an office. A wooden file cabinet was flanked by bookshelves on one wall, which housed copies of podcasts, legal reference books and research material. A gray farmhouse desk held recording equipment, and a laptop.
As Ellie studied the rows of podcasts labeled by title and date, she noted many were copies of other podcasters’ recordings, which Caitlin had probably studied for format and style. There were also tapes of transcripts of criminal trials.
Interesting. What had inspired the woman to explore the crime genre?
She thumbed through them and in the last section found two labeled Darnell Woodruff. Her pulse jumped. This was what she needed.
She and Derrick could analyze the material in the morning along with the computer. She checked the file cabinet next and found numerous hardcopy files of the past cases she’d worked. Then one with Darnell’s name on it.
She gathered it along with the podcast to carry to her car, but just as she reached the door, she heard a noise. A crash.
She swung around.
Another noise, glass shattering, and she froze, listening again. It had come from the picture window. She set the tapes onto Caitlin’s desk, pulled her weapon and tiptoed into the hall. Footsteps sounded.
Heavy breathing echoed in the dark space. She gripped her gun at the ready, her body bouncing backward as a hulking dark figure charged her. She shoved at the man, desperate to see his face but he was masked and wore all black.
She struggled to push him away, but he grabbed her by the hair, stomped on her stomach then dragged her toward the closet. “Police, let me go,” she screamed as she kicked and clawed at his arms.
He slapped her across the face so hard she saw stars and her head snapped back, then he hit her again. Pain ricocheted through her temple and he hit her over and over, punching her in the stomach until she gasped for air, choking on the pain.
Yanking the closet door open, he shoved her inside. She clawed at his leg, but the door slammed, plunging her into the darkness. A dizzy spell assaulted her and for a moment she thought she was going to pass out.
Footsteps pounded on the floor outside the door, then she suddenly smelled gasoline. Fear seized her and she pushed herself up and began to beat at the door, twisting and turning the knob. A crackling sound broke the silence then the odor grew stronger.
Oh, God, he was setting the office on fire! Panic shot through her and she held on to the wall and kicked the door to force it open. She tried again and again, to no avail. Smoke slowly crept inside. Her eyes stung and her lungs ached for air. Claustrophobic, she felt the walls closing in around her. Herheart raced, beating so fast she heard the blood roaring in her ears.
Tense seconds passed. Her vision blurred. The room spun as if she was caught in a tornado.
She coughed, fighting to breathe but lost the battle. Her body was weighted down, her head fuzzy, and her face hit the floor.
EIGHTY-TWO
“I’m still working,” Cord said as he headed around the mountain toward the O’Connor woman’s address.
“I’ll wait up,” Lola offered.
“No, you need to rest,” Cord said. The last thing he wanted was for her to lose the baby because of exhaustion. He’d never forgive himself.
“The storm has really kicked up so it’ll take me a while. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
“Okay but be careful. This baby needs his daddy. I love you.”
A clenching of his lungs made it hard for Cord to breathe. He knew Lola wanted him to use the L word, too, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie, so he said good night.
A tree had fallen over the highway, forcing him to veer onto a side road. His tires slung mud, and he spotted Ellie’s Jeep on the hill in front of a little yellow bungalow.
The wind beat at the truck as he pulled his jacket on and darted up to the house. His gaze scanned the property. Except for Ellie’s Jeep, there were no other cars. No one around that he could see either. Trees bent in the gust of wind as he got up and darted to the front door.
A thin stream of smoke seeped from the bottom of the doorway, then he spotted a dark figure running toward the woods.
He started to go after him. But the house was on fire. What if Ellie was inside?
Terrified of losing her, he pushed open the unlocked door and scanned the living room. Smoke was starting to fill the space, but he charged through the room, yelling Ellie’s name.