4

In that split second, Chryssie knew she’d make a mistake. Forgetting about her exhaustion and throbbing feet, she fled down the street into the darkness.

By the sound of the footsteps, these men were fast.

The only plus was that it was her neighborhood. Still running, she turned into the Dunners’ yard. “Sparky, Sparky,” she whispered.

Sparky, a one hundred-pound Rottweiler, started barking with joy. He loved her and his walks with her. Another way she made extra money. Sparky bounded out of the small shed that was his home and ran straight toward her. His feet landed on her shoulders as he lapped at her face. “Watch’em, Sparky.”

The dog went quiet as he came to immediate attention. He loved people, but his owners had trained him to be a guard dog. Ohio City might be one of the best neighborhoods in Cleveland, but it still had crime.

She patted his head and whispered. “Good dog. Watch’em.” Chryssie squeezed behind the small shed and waited.

It didn’t take long before the quiet of the night was shattered. It wasn’t the happy-to-see-you-bark she’d heard a moment before. The excited barking turned into a low guttural warning.

Chryssie peeked from behind the shed.

The men stood at the edge of the yard. Their eyes and attention focused only on the dog—she’d been momentarily forgotten.

Sparky strained to get to them.

“Where is she?”

“She’s gotta be here. I saw her run this way. And there’s no way out. See the fence.”

He was wrong. Chryssie fell to her knees, feeling her way as she crawled along the fence—the fence Sparky had dug a hole under earlier in the summer. Her hand hit the board they’d used to block the space. Good thing the Dunners’ hadn’t fixed it yet. As she slithered under, the prongs of the chain link fence scraped her back. A small price to pay to get away. This was insane, but she had no idea who these men were, and until she’d had a chance to speak with the police, she wouldn’t take any chances.

As she ran through the Millers’ yard, Sparky still growled. Chryssie chanced a glance back. A light had been turned on upstairs. Sparky had awakened his owners. Maybe they’d call the police.

Her heart still raced, but she slowed to a walk as her feet touched the sidewalk. No reason to bring attention by running down the dark street in the middle of the night. What should she do now? Somewhere in the chase she’d lost her purse. Her heart sank. Her mind flashed to when she’d knelt down to crawl through the hole in the fence. Well, she wouldn’t go back there. Now, she had no money, no car, and no keys to get into her apartment. Of course, she could go to the manager.

Chryssie looked at her watch. Almost 2:00 AM. Certainly Mr. Roberts wasn’t still up, but this was an emergency. He’d be a little aggravated, but he’d get over it. Once she got in her apartment, she’d be safe.

There was no reason to think the men would be looking for her or that they would go back to her apartment building. They’d probably been looking for someone to rob. And she’d blown their plan. But what if they found another victim? Surely, they’d assume she’d call the police. They wouldn’t keep hanging around.

With that settled, she made her plans. She’d get Mr. Roberts to open her door, get a few hours’ sleep, and then take the exam. As soon as it was over, she’d go to the police. It might not make them happy that she’d waited so long, but they’d just have to accept it. As she neared her apartment building from the back entrance, her feet slowed.

Better to be safe than sorry.

She slipped behind a tree and waited. Sparky wasn’t barking down the street. Everything seemed quiet enough. No one around that she could see. She moved from the tree and ducked behind a car in the parking lot. She moved up to the next row of cars and then the next. Only one row of cars stood between her and the door.

Now, she had to wait for someone to come out so she could get inside. Shuffling noises caught her attention. A shadow walked in her direction. The large shadow came into focus. Large enough to be one of the men who’d chased her only moments before.

He walked casually around the parking lot, his hand in his pocket, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Did he have a gun in that pocket? Of course he did.

Tears flooded her eyes making it hard to see. Why did everything keep going wrong for her?

The gap between her and the man grew smaller.

Chryssie couldn’t run now. She fell to her knees, flattened on the gravel and then rolled under the car, hoping the owner didn’t come out and run over her.

Shoes came into view. They stopped in front of the car. Then they moved to the side. The shoes were so close she could touch them.

Don’t look under the car. Chryssie held her breath, afraid the man would hear her. Don’t look under the car. She needed air but didn’t dare breathe. Surely, he could hear her heart thumping. The gravel bit into her cheek. She had no idea what she’d do if he bent down and found her.

The shoes moved—finally.

Very quietly, she sucked in air. She counted to five hundred before she found the courage to crawl out. After several surreptitious peeks, Chryssie decided the man had left the parking lot. Maybe he’d given up the search for good, but she doubted it. Even though she didn’t want to be exposed waiting for Mr. Roberts to buzz her in, she had no choice. She stood up and brushed off the dirt from her clothes. Her wig had fallen off. Her own hair was half-pinned up and half-falling down. She was filthy, thanks to the gravel. Oh, well. It can’t be helped.

As she walked toward the door, someone came out. Finally—a break. Taking a deep breath, she half-walked, half-jogged to the door, smiling at the man as she passed. She could only hope he wouldn’t notice what a mess she was. His eyes were glued to the phone in his hand. She caught the door just before it closed.

More tears threatened. She was so glad to be home. Get hold of yourself. Don’t fall apart yet. She took the fire stairs up to the third floor where Mr. Roberts’ apartment was located.