Lib Novel Page 56
What the hell?
“Run! For God’s sake run!” Pauley’s voice. Then there was a low curse and gasp of pain.
And Kendra ran! Pauley’s voice called weakly from the other side of the garage. “Kendra, get the hell away! The guy’s a—”
Pauley’s voice cut off in mid-sentence.
She ducked behind a car. The guy’s a what? Kendra thought. A random psychopath? A chill went through her. It could be something even worse, she realized. Something much worse.
She turned back toward the hallway door, just in time to see it slam closed.
Shit.
Where would he be expecting her to go? Back toward Pauley’s voice? It’s where she wanted to be, helping him…
No, this guy would know that. She couldn’t do what was expected. It could be fatal.
She heard a single footstep, then the rustling of fabric. He was trying to be quiet, forgetting that his nylon jacket gave him away far more than his athletic shoes.
Kendra crouched even lower and rolled under the black Humvee next to her. She froze. Had he heard her?
She didn’t think so.
She rolled again, toward a minivan. She curled underneath. She needed to put more distance between herself and that creep, whoever he was. But she’d lost track of him.
Was he being still, waiting for her to reveal herself?
She listened.
Not a sound.
Come on, you bastard. Give me something…
There!
He’d brushed past a car nearby, his jacket zipper striking a side panel.
But still too close for comfort. Damn.
She rolled again, moving two cars over. All well and good, but she needed a plan.
She heard jagged breathing on the other side of the garage. Pauley was alive! But there was no way in hell she could get to him.
“He’s seen my face, Kendra.”
The voice sliced through her. It was barely louder than a whisper, but she heard every word. He couldn’t have been more than ten feet from her.
“I can’t let him identify me,” the voice continued. “I’m not going to let myself get caught by some greasy garage attendant. Pity. I’m afraid he needs to die.”
He was trying to draw her out, to panic her.
And doing a damn good job of it.
Don’t panic. Close your eyes. Concentrate.
What could she figure out about this guy?
He spoke with a slight northwestern dialect; Oregon or maybe even Washington State. He pronounced caught like cot, which was always a giveaway.