One Week To Live by Joan Beth Erickson Page A

elevators ended at the lobby level. She’d need to disembark here to catch the elevator to the parking garage. When he spotted her, he smiled. Just seeing her lifted his spirits and made his heart beat a little faster. Even before that shared kiss he’d been interested in her.
    “I told you I don’t want to talk,” she announced when she saw him. She moved toward an open elevator door leading to the garage.
    “Wait,” he called out. This wasn’t how he wanted her to react upon seeing him.
    Other workers swarmed around her and entered the elevator car. With a loud ding, the door slid closed before she could get in. She headed for another elevator.
    “Angie, please wait.”
    She stopped, turned, and let out a huge sigh. “What do you want?”
    “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said, going over and pressing the elevator button before she could.
    “I can manage on my own. Don’t bird dog me,” she protested.
    “My car’s parked in your garage.” He felt it wasn’t safe for her to wander through the garage alone with the kidnapper possibly lurking nearby.
    “Suit yourself.” She entered the elevator car and pressed the floor number.
    The sound of their footsteps echoed through the hot garage. Several car engines roared to life a few rows over. When she unlocked and opened her car door, a sweet, sickening scent wafted out. “Yuck,” she mumbled. “What’s that smell?”
    He pushed her aside and peered in. “What the hell?”
    Looking over his shoulder, she muttered, “Oh, my God!” Dozens of dead roses lay scattered across the front seat of her car and spilled onto the floor in a limp brown collection of flowers that produced a nauseous stench in the summer heat.
    He scanned the garage, but saw no one nearby. In the distance, an elevator door slid open and someone in a wheelchair disappeared inside.
    “There’s a note,” she said, her voice a shaky whisper.
    Dragging his handkerchief out of his pants pocket, he reached in and took it from the seat. It read, “Isn’t the smell of death wonderful?”

Chapter Six
    Monday night/Tuesday morning
    “How did he get into my car?” she stammered, fear filling her words. “I never leave it unlocked.”
    He hated the hysteria creeping into her voice. Hated that someone resorted to such sick methods of intimidation. He surveyed the car. “There’s no sign of forced entry.”
    She stared at the flowers, her face filled with dismay. “He’s never done anything like this before. A flurry of threatening notes, but never something like this.”
    “His M.O. is changing. We don’t know what he might do.”
    “He’s becoming more brazen. Why?”
    “He’s trying to frighten you.” Brian fought the urge to reach out and comfort her.
    “Well, it’s working.” She sucked in a breath.
    “If you’re scared, your visions could be suppressed. You won’t be able to figure out his clues.”
    “What clues? I’ve been bombarded with harassing notes but few clues.” Panic crept into her voice. “Monday’s nearly over. Friday is the seventh day and we have nothing.”
    “Have you experienced more visions?”
    “Just one, an explosion.”
    “What?”
    She told him how the erupting volcano on Saturday night had triggered the vision of an explosion. “I don’t know what it means. I pray it isn’t connected with the little girl.”
    “You can’t let him upset you. That’s what he wants.”
    “But he already has, dammit.”
    A nearby car door slammed. She jumped. He scanned the garage and stepped closer to shield her, protect her.
    “He’s been near me more than once, but I haven’t sensed his evil presence. Last time I did.”
    “Don’t be discouraged. Give your psychic abilities a chance.”
    “What psychic abilities?”
    “You’re afraid of failing, aren’t you?” Memories of his own previous failure haunted him.
    “Yes,” she whispered.
    Watching her worry increase as she studied the dead flowers, he wanted to give her encouragement,