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Why is he wasting his time—at the risk of being identified, or even caught—on an empty car, when all around us, juicier targets come into his view?
The first police patrol car tears around the intersection, lights and sirens screaming. It screeches to a halt. A second car follows suit, then a third. Officers file out of both of them, weapons drawn.
Would he shoot at them?

Would he shoot at them?


#thriller free on #KU

I crane my neck into the hole, then swing my legs into it. On the other side, I clasp the rail of the spiral staircase, trying not to make it clang as I climb onto the first step. Now, I perk my ears. In the murky space swirling around me, there it is: an eerie echo, reverberating. Someone is upstairs right now. His voice is low, but from time to time it screeches up to a high pitch, which is horribly familiar--

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Terror bites my stomach