He hoped whoever was in the car was just some poor idiot who had gotten lost and would soon be on her way.
* * *
SOPHIA REARDON WAS lost and felt like some poor idiot. She rolled her window down farther and took a few deep breaths of air, trying to refocus.
Was this warehouse really the place? All of them looked the same. If she could read her own handwriting that would help. Of course, if people would do their jobs correctly in the first place she wouldn’t have to be here at the corner of Serial-Killers-R-Us Street and Shouldn’t-Be-Here-Alone Avenue.
Sophia looked down at the napkin where she’d scribbled the address. Yeah, that was definitely an 8 not a 3. Which meant it was this warehouse she was supposed to be at, not the just-as-scary first one she’d gone to.
All Sophia needed were a few pictures of the interior ceiling frame and doorway of the warehouse to help finish a computer rendering of the building. This warehouse was identical to one that had burned down in an arson case two weeks ago—the work of a serial arsonist who had hit buildings in four different states. The FBI had been called in to help local law enforcement.
Sophia muttered under her breath again as she grabbed her camera gear and purse. She put her FBI credentials in her pocket, in case some poor security guard needed to see them. She pushed open the door to the warehouse and walked in slowly, giving her eyes time to adjust. She cursed her office mate, Bruce, who had begged Sophia to take these pictures.
“‘The new girl at the coffee shop said yes to lunch, Sophia,’” Sophia said in her best mimicry of Bruce’s voice. “‘But today’s our only chance this week. Please, please, please go take pictures at the horror-film warehouse for me. I’m worth getting mutilated for.’”
Sophia sighed. Bruce owed her. Big-time. Sophia hated this cloak-and-dagger stuff.
Sure, she worked for the FBI, but would be the first to tell you she wasn’t an agent. She didn’t even do CSI stuff usually, although she was part of the forensic team. She was a graphic designer, for goodness’ sake. She designed brochures and fliers and posters. Safe in the comfort of her office in DC, not in some warehouse in Scaryville.
As the door closed behind her, Sophia took a deep breath and reminded herself there was plenty of air in this building and nothing to be afraid of. She was not trapped back in that car like during the accident five years ago. Sophia went through a couple of the mental exercises Dr. Fretwell had taught her to get her brief moment of panic under control. Once it had passed she grabbed her camera and began getting the shots she needed.
The doorway posed no problems so she got those first. But the beams in the ceiling area were going to be more difficult to film. Looking around she realized the office in the back would give her much better access to the shots she needed of the ceiling framing.
Sophia cautiously made her way back to the steps leading up to the office. It didn’t look as if there were any serial killers or cyborgs living here, but the place still gave her the creeps. Wooden crates and boxes were piled all along the stairs and landing, making getting up them precarious. Sophia kept a firm grip on the railing for as long as she could until she had to let go to step around a huge crate.
As she began climbing the second set of steps, Sophia caught something moving out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see what it was just as an arm reached out from behind her and covered her mouth, pulling her up against a hard chest and silencing her startled scream.
A deep voice breathed quietly in her ear, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Copyright © 2015 by Janie Crouch
ISBN-13: 9781460344965
The Marshal
Copyright © 2015 by Adrienne Giordano
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