herself for being so careless, for not verifying the emergency before heading into the night and making herself a sitting target. She knew in her soul Rainey and Miranda had been murdered. Was their killer after her now?
Stupid, stupid, stupid! The frantic slamming of her heart rang in her ears. She prayed whoever was in the outer office wouldn’t hear it.
How would she escape the maniac? The windows to the surgery were sealed shut due to the heat pump installation. The phone died in the power outage. She realized she forgot her cell phone at home.
She didn’t dare make a break for the hallway leading to the back and front exits of the building. In other words, she was a sitting duck in the arcade of her own clinic. Adrenaline punched her system to a whole new level of survival.
Slipping into the small stockroom off the surgery, she snicked the door shut behind her. It was so dark she could hardly see her hands in front of her face. She fumbled on the shelves for anything she could use as a weapon. A disposable scalpel was her weapon of choice, but Laura had reorganized the shelves during a cleaning spree and everything had been moved.
Her fingers touched a box of wooden matches. Those could work. If the security system overrode to battery power as it was supposed to, the matches could be her ticket out of there. Inching her way up the stockroom ladder, she lit a match under the smoke sensor located in the ceiling. The match flashed for a second and died. Breeana cursed under her breath.
A draft nudged her spine as the stockroom door flew open and smacked against the outer wall. She choked back a scream, gripped the top of the ladder, and froze.
The shaft of a penlight danced across the small space before coming to rest on the ladder. On her. With fumbling hands, she struck more matches, held them like a flare beneath the sensor, and prayed for a miracle.
As if on cue, the haunting lyrics of a hymn filled the room. Breeana couldn’t believe her ears. Her obscene caller had escalated from telephone intimidation to physically assaulting her within the space of a few days. His malevolent voice behind her, the beam from his penlight blinded her when she twisted on the ladder.
“Say your prayers, Breeana. You’re about to meet your maker.”
The matches burned her fingers but she held fast. She could use them as a weapon to poke out his eyes. An instant later, a piercing squeal filled her ears as the smoke sensor responded above her head. Its deafening screech rebounded off the walls.
Her attacker roared, shoved the nearest shelving unit, and sent it flying. It crashed against the ladder and toppled her to the floor. Frantic, Breeana tore at the sharp edges of metal pinning her down, slicing her hands. The twisted pieces wouldn’t give an inch. It was useless.
The slamming of the stockroom door barely registered until she smelled the acrid stench of smoke. Crap! The sprinklers weren’t working. He must have turned off the water main outside the building. Wide-eyed, terror slammed through her as she watched flames lick upward from the base of the door, a pool of burning accelerant streaming toward her from the surgery beyond.
“Help! Help me!” She beat back the flames with a blanket that fell from the shelving unit. Choking on smoke, she fought dizziness, praying for the sounds of running feet, the clamor of voices, and the swoosh of fire extinguishers. The wail of the fire detector was the only sound she heard.
Help would never arrive in time.
Chapter Four
Sully was the first to reach Breeana, flashlight in hand and gun ready as he forced the supply room door. Air filtered in, clearing the smoke. His heart lurched when he saw her, pale-faced and gasping for breath on the floor, tears streaking her cheeks.
Hell, she could have died in there.It took every ounce of willpower for him to keep his voice even. “You’re okay now. We’ll have you out of there in a minute.”
He holstered his gun. When she
Stupid, stupid, stupid! The frantic slamming of her heart rang in her ears. She prayed whoever was in the outer office wouldn’t hear it.
How would she escape the maniac? The windows to the surgery were sealed shut due to the heat pump installation. The phone died in the power outage. She realized she forgot her cell phone at home.
She didn’t dare make a break for the hallway leading to the back and front exits of the building. In other words, she was a sitting duck in the arcade of her own clinic. Adrenaline punched her system to a whole new level of survival.
Slipping into the small stockroom off the surgery, she snicked the door shut behind her. It was so dark she could hardly see her hands in front of her face. She fumbled on the shelves for anything she could use as a weapon. A disposable scalpel was her weapon of choice, but Laura had reorganized the shelves during a cleaning spree and everything had been moved.
Her fingers touched a box of wooden matches. Those could work. If the security system overrode to battery power as it was supposed to, the matches could be her ticket out of there. Inching her way up the stockroom ladder, she lit a match under the smoke sensor located in the ceiling. The match flashed for a second and died. Breeana cursed under her breath.
A draft nudged her spine as the stockroom door flew open and smacked against the outer wall. She choked back a scream, gripped the top of the ladder, and froze.
The shaft of a penlight danced across the small space before coming to rest on the ladder. On her. With fumbling hands, she struck more matches, held them like a flare beneath the sensor, and prayed for a miracle.
As if on cue, the haunting lyrics of a hymn filled the room. Breeana couldn’t believe her ears. Her obscene caller had escalated from telephone intimidation to physically assaulting her within the space of a few days. His malevolent voice behind her, the beam from his penlight blinded her when she twisted on the ladder.
“Say your prayers, Breeana. You’re about to meet your maker.”
The matches burned her fingers but she held fast. She could use them as a weapon to poke out his eyes. An instant later, a piercing squeal filled her ears as the smoke sensor responded above her head. Its deafening screech rebounded off the walls.
Her attacker roared, shoved the nearest shelving unit, and sent it flying. It crashed against the ladder and toppled her to the floor. Frantic, Breeana tore at the sharp edges of metal pinning her down, slicing her hands. The twisted pieces wouldn’t give an inch. It was useless.
The slamming of the stockroom door barely registered until she smelled the acrid stench of smoke. Crap! The sprinklers weren’t working. He must have turned off the water main outside the building. Wide-eyed, terror slammed through her as she watched flames lick upward from the base of the door, a pool of burning accelerant streaming toward her from the surgery beyond.
“Help! Help me!” She beat back the flames with a blanket that fell from the shelving unit. Choking on smoke, she fought dizziness, praying for the sounds of running feet, the clamor of voices, and the swoosh of fire extinguishers. The wail of the fire detector was the only sound she heard.
Help would never arrive in time.
Chapter Four
Sully was the first to reach Breeana, flashlight in hand and gun ready as he forced the supply room door. Air filtered in, clearing the smoke. His heart lurched when he saw her, pale-faced and gasping for breath on the floor, tears streaking her cheeks.
Hell, she could have died in there.It took every ounce of willpower for him to keep his voice even. “You’re okay now. We’ll have you out of there in a minute.”
He holstered his gun. When she
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