Bailed Out (The Anna Albertini Files #2) - Rebecca Zanetti Page 0,65

shut the door as quietly as I could. The room was dark and smelled musty. Definitely a closet.

“We did lock it,” Rich was saying outside. A light flipped on and filtered between the bottom of the door to my feet. “I know we did.”

“Obviously not,” Krissy said. “Romeo?” she called out.

The cat meowed loudly as if ratting us out.

Clark sucked in air.

I glanced over at him, but it was too dark in the closet. My nose tickled from all the dust.

“Need…sneeze,” he whispered, the sound muffled.

Oh, God. “No,” I hissed as quietly as I could, turning toward him and grabbing what turned out to be his arm.

His body bunched and he lifted his arm, sneezing into it.

“What the hell was that?” Rich said.

Darn it. I froze in place, but my heart started beating so fast I could barely breathe. We were so trespassing right now. There was no way out. Well, we had thought we’d heard a noise that might be a body in a coffin? That would never hold up in court.

“I’m ready. Let’s get out of here and deal with the mess tomorrow,” Krissy said, her voice becoming louder as if she was moving back into the room from the reception area.

I prayed silently in my head and promised God I’d never break and enter again if He helped us out of this. Krissy wanted to leave, so hopefully Rich would go along.

“I thought I heard something,” Rich said clearly.

Nope. Nothing. I tried to mentally send reassurances to Rich, just in case that worked. I doubted it, but this would be so bad if we got caught. All they had to do was leave, and I’d never do anything like this again. Ever. In fact, I’d start going to church twice a week. For a while, anyway.

Clark sucked in air, vibrated in place, and then sneezed so hard he fell sideways. Something clattered and I turned to grab for it, my hands raking across a wooden shelf. I stopped the clattering and held a ceramic…urn? “It’s an urn,” I whispered. We must be in a storage room for them.

He sneezed again, going into a wild fit of continuous sneezes. He fell back and hit the shelf. Something dropped, and dust flew all around us. Thick dust. He coughed. “Shit. Is that?”

“Huh?” I tried to hold still.

The door opened, and the light flicked on.

I caught sight of Clark just as he saw me, and dust covered him. No. Ashes with a couple of very small bone fragments on his shoulder. He looked down, sneezed again, and then let out a girly scream I’d only heard on roller coasters. He pivoted back and hit the shelves on the other side of the small room. Boxes holding remains and old urns rained down, crashing into each other and breaking apart.

I yelped and tried to leap out of the way, but cremated ashes coated me, head to toe. A heavier fragment landed on my nose, and I battled it away so hard that I poked my eye.

Clark fought crazily, back and forth, trying to get out from the cloud of burned dead people.

Oh, God. I coughed. This couldn’t be healthy.

He jumped around like something was stinging him, his eyes wide and crazed. “Dead people,” he bellowed, twisting and turning. He slid through the thick gray material on the ground and crashed into the still attached shelves on the other side of the closet, which came tumbling down. “Oh, God. Dead people ashes,” he yelled, jumping around like a burnt puppy.

More thick material with small bone fragments blew around the entire room, and I ducked as Clark swung out in a panic.

“Stop,” I yelled at him through the murk. “You’re only making it worse.” My skin crawled as if a million ants swarmed me, and I tried to smack away the mess.

He paused, sucking in air with the insane look only seen in rabid wildcats.

Nausea rolled through my stomach and I turned toward the door, ashes falling from my hair.

Krissy held up her phone and snapped several pictures.

A siren quieted the crickets outside. They’d called the cops? My shoulders slumped and more material fell to the floor, where my shoes were already covered.

Clark pushed past me. “Is this dangerous? I need a shower. Where’s the shower?”

Rich shoved him back into the room with one hand on his chest.

Clark skidded through the thick pile on the floor and nearly ran into me. “We’re covered in ashes. Breathing ashes,” he bellowed, his back vibrating crazily.