a box of tissues an hour, I’ll just have to risk the chance of death by angry outlaws.
Grabbing an extra pillow to prop my head up higher so I can try to breathe through the nasal and chest congestion while I sleep, I flop around in bed for several minutes before finally finding a comfortable spot.
Which is the exact moment that somewhere in the house, glass shatters.
Oh shit!
My heart climbs into my throat, ready to pound its way out of my chest as I burrow deeper into the covers.
It’s not the best hiding spot, but where else can I go? Someone is outside, possibly trying to break into the house to get to me, just as I feared!
My cell phone is in the living room on the charger, which means I’m stranded. I’ll just have to wait until my killers come for me and drag me out of bed, or maybe just put a bullet in my head right where I’m lying down.
I’m shaking all over as I finally roll off the bed with my comforter and sheets around me like a burrito, as if they somehow make me bulletproof.
Scrambling on my bundled-up knees over to the closet, I quietly slip inside, wincing when the door creaks.
And there, sitting on my pairs of shoes, is where I hide out, praying the outlaws will go away and not kill me.
I hold my breath, listening for footsteps, but they never come. There’s not a sound in the entire house.
Not until the doorbell rings.
How sick can someone be? Ringing the door like they’re an expected guest when they want to murder me?
I never should’ve talked to the detectives. If I hadn’t, I would probably be sitting in a jail cell right now, but at least I wouldn’t be about to die!
The doorbell rings again, making me imagine them laughing their asses off behind their helmets as they terrify me even more before hurting me. Will they make it fast or drag it out, torturing me slowly?
A pounding starts on the door, the killers obviously growing impatient, ready to bust in and get this over with. Then, there’s a loud BOOM!
“Cora Walsh?” a gruff male voice call out from close by. “Ah, Miss Walsh, are you in here?”
Miss? What kind of a murderer refers to his victims so politely?
“You can come out now, Miss Walsh!”
Ha! There’s no way I’m falling for this trap. Nope. No way. I’m going to sit my ass right here until they give up and leave or find me.
A stupid, sudden sneeze makes the decision for me. It erupts before I can even try to hold it back.
And it’s loud.
So loud that the mild-mannered murderer obviously hears it. My bedroom light flips on, filtering in through the slants in the closet doors before it’s yanked open.
A tall, muscular man in a dark blue suit and white button down is then towering above me. His brown hair is shaved super short all over like he got buzzed by a military razor, looking oddly professional and not like a criminal outlaw at all despite the gun he’s holding next to his thigh.
The two of us stare at each other silently for several long seconds. His square, clean-shaven jaw is clenched tight as he slowly pulls out a wallet from his jacket with his left hand, flipping it open to show me the shiny badge inside. “I’m FBI Agent Sheppard. I’m assuming you’re Cora Walsh?”
FBI agent?
Ah! He’s here to save me!
“Oh thank god!” I exclaim as I scramble to my feet and out of my bedsheets to throw my arms around his neck, holding on for dear life.
“Jesus, you’re a mess,” he mutters, not even trying to hug me back.
“I’m sick,” I tell him through my congested nose as I let him go.
“With what? The plague?” he deadpans in his curt voice as he puts his gun into his holster and slips his badge back into his pocket.
“No, it’s just a cold and a little ear infection,” I reply with a dismissive wave of my hand. “So, um, not that I’m not glad to see you, obviously, but what’s going on? What are you doing here? Did Detective Ashby and Rollins send you?”
“Ah, yeah, they did,” he agrees as he straightens to attention like a good little soldier. “Usually the, um, US Marshall handles WITSEC, but I wanted to oversee this case firsthand. I’ve been staking out your house and your workplace for the past two days, keeping an eye on things.”
“You have?