Deeper than the Night - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,90
its hiding place underneath a flowerpot and let herself in the back door.
Not wanting to alert anyone who might be watching the house for her return, she made her way through the dark house toward her bedroom. Shedding the wet blanket, Alex's t-shirt and socks, she pulled on a black sweatshirt and a pair of fleece-lined sweats, thick cotton socks, and a pair of running shoes.
She was feeling her way along the top of her dresser, looking for her comb, when she discovered her handbag. Inside, she found her wallet and car keys, which she shoved into the pocket of her jeans.
She towel-dried her hair, ran a comb through it, then went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of strong black coffee.
Where would Gail and Nana go?
She pondered the question as she finished her coffee; then, setting the cup aside, she went into the bathroom she had shared with Gail and closed the door before flipping on the night light.
Ever since Gail had learned to read and write, she had loved to leave notes for her sister. Usually, the notes had been silly jokes, sometimesthey were hurriedly scrawled apologies for using Kara's make-up. Gail had always left the notes in a blue and white tin container that had once held perfumed bath salts. Kara had kept the canister because she liked the design, and it had become their private mailbox.
Hardly daring to hope, Kara picked up the canister and removed the lid. Murmuring a silent prayer, she withdrew a rolled-up piece of paper.
"Kara, I locked Barrett's watchdog in the hall closet. Nana, Mrs. Zimmermann, and me are running away. Idon't know where we'll go. We're taking Mrs. Zimmermann's car. I'll call Cherise every day at four and every night at seven. Her number's in the book. Don't worry about us. Nana is feeling much better. I love you. Gail."
Switching off the light, Kara left the bathroom and went into the kitchen. According to the clock on the microwave, it was just after midnight.
She poured herself another cup of coffee, then sat at the kitchen table, wondering if it was safe to spend the night in her own bed, or if she should go to a motel.
Lost in thought, she listened to the rain beat against the aluminum patio cover. No doubt Alex would think she had left him because she didn't love him enough to accept the sacrifices she would have to make to stay with him, when nothing could be further from the truth. She had left him because she did love him, because she couldn't bear to see the pain in his eyes and know she was the cause. She knew in her heart that if anything happened to her, Alex would never forgive himself.
But, oh, how she yearned for the comfort of his arms around her! She wasn't afraid of anything when she was with him. He made her feel strong, invincible. With Alex at her side, she could face anything. Anything, except knowing she was the cause of his sorrow.
Feeling heavy-hearted and more alone than she'd ever felt in her life, she went into her room and gathered up a blanket and her pillow and climbed up into the attic.
She would sleep here tonight. Tomorrow, she would go to Cherise's house and wait for Gail to call.
Dale Barrett paced the floor of the lab, his fists jammed into his pants pockets. He cursed softly, unable to believe his bad luck as he glared at the two men sitting hunched over the table.
Mitch Hamblin looked sullen; Kelsey's expression was impossible to read. Most of his face was covered with a thick bandage. The chain wrapped around the alien's fist had done a remarkable bit of damage.
"She'll go home," Barrett said. "Sooner or later, she'll go home."
"I'll find her," Hamblin said.
"No, I'll find her." Kelsey stood up, his eyes narrowed. "I want him, and he'll be with her."
"I want him alive!" Barrett's gaze bored into Kelsey's. "You can dispose of the girl if she gets in the way. Do it in front of the alien," Barrett said, exposing a sadistic streak few knew he possessed. "That should be vengeance enough for what he did to your face. But I want him alive. I need him alive."
"And I want him dead!" Kelsey's hand strayed to the bandage on his face. His nose had been broken; it had taken thirty stitches to sew up the gash that ran up his left cheek to his hairline.