good friends.
Marie waited until Julie had unlocked the door to her apartment and waved goodbye before driving away. Julie went inside, a little bit of a buzz still slowing her reactions. She didn’t drink often. Apparently for good reason. Even a power nap hadn’t cleared her head completely. Her sleep had been haunted by dreams of the gallant detective who’d come to her rescue.
Another man is exactly what you need, Julie
. God, she was a mess.
“Lock the door,” she muttered. She turned the latch and then tossed her keys on the counter that served as a dining table and divided the living room from the kitchen. Had she ever been this exhausted?
Without bothering with lights, she headed straight for the tiny bathroom. She just wanted to slip into the tub and soak for a while, then drag herself into bed. She didn’t want to look at the crummy place she now called home. The dinky kitchen cupboards were basically bare. She ate lunch and dinner at the bar whether she was hungry or not. Marie insisted she didn’t want her to starve.
Right now, Julie only wanted that hot bath. She didn’t want to think about how out of sorts her life was or how alone she felt. She didn’t want to think at all.
She closed the bathroom door and rested against it for a moment, allowing the darkness and the quiet to soothe her. The inordinately cold air abruptly penetrated her senses, making her shiver. It was so cold in here. Was her thermostat broken?
Maybe it was just her. She needed that hot bath. All she had to do was move. Push off the door. Twist the knobs to start the water flowing.
The distinct creak of a floorboard sounded in the hall outside the bathroom.
Julie froze against the door.
Her eyes widened.
She knew that sound.
This apartment didn’t have carpet. Hardwood floors throughout. In certain places, the floor creaked.
Fear exploded in her veins.
Someone was in the apartment.
She whirled around and slammed the lock on the bathroom door into place.
The knob turned.
Her heart surged into her throat.
The door shook on its hinges. Whoever was out there, he wanted in. Oh God!
The fight or flight instinct kicked in.
She had to get out of here!
Julie scrambled into the tub. She shoved the blinds out of the way and twisted the window’s lock.
The intruder’s weight slammed against the door.
She bit back a shriek and pushed on the stubborn sash with all her might. It wouldn’t budge. The damned thing was painted shut.
She was trapped.
As hard as Julie pushed, the window would not open. Her arms trembled with the effort. She heard the sound of groaning wood and whirled around. The bathroom door would give way any second now.
The knob twisted violently.
Her breath evaporated in her lungs.
He was going to get her. The crime rate was high in this neighborhood.
She didn’t want to die like this... or to be... oh God... raped.
The door abruptly stopped shaking... the knob stopped twisting.
Silence
.
Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that the blood roared in her ears like a freight train.
What was he doing?
The floor creaked.
She frowned.
More silence
.
He’d moved away from the door.
Why?
A new rush of fear plunged through her. How would he try to get to her now?
Then she heard it… banging on the front door.
“Ms. Barton, I know you’re in there!”
The landlady
.
Julie’s knees went weak even as confusion screamed through her brain. It was past two a.m. What would Mrs. Allison be doing at her door? Where was the intruder?
Did she dare leave the bathroom and open the front door? Had the intruder left by some other route? Had Mrs. Allison scared him off?
Julie climbed out of the tub and moved soundlessly to the door. She fought to control her breathing and the trembling rampant in her limbs. She had to listen. Had to be calm.
She pressed her ear to the bathroom door.
Nothing.
Silence
.
“I saw you come in!” Mrs. Allison drummed her fist against the front door again. “Why
Learning to Kill: Stories