“I’m Sheriff Cavanaugh. Joe. I was on my way home and noticed the lights
down here. The janitor was just leaving, and I asked him to hold the door so I
could check out the place.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m not
suggesting you have to leave, but the storm is picking up out there.”
“There’s a storm?” She glanced up at the windows, and indeed flashes of
lightning brightened the blackness. “I didn’t realize…I didn’t even know how
late it was.” She gestured to the files open on the desktop computer and her
stack of notes. She’d been researching in the basement morgue of the newspaper
for hours. “I got lost in what I was
doing.”
“You probably couldn’t hear the storm down here, could you?”
She shook her head. “No. I should be going.”
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Laurel. Spencer is a safe place, but if
you’d like me to walk you to your car, I’d be—”
An ear-splitting crack and a bright flash of light cut him off. He turned
toward the window, but she shrieked and backed up against the wall.
“It’s okay.” He held up his palm toward her. “Probably only a—”
The overhead lights flickered and went out, plunging them into darkness.
Laurel’s heart rate accelerated. “I have to get out of here.”
A loud hum sounded, followed by the creak of hinges and a solid snick as
the door closed.
“Well, hell,” the sheriff said into the pitch black. The reconciled tone
of his voice sent a shudder of apprehension along her spine.
‘Focus on the present, not the intimidating what-if possibilities.’ She was nowhere
near step five of her therapy. The present was definitely intimidating. No
amount of counting was going to settle her nerves at this point. “Wait. I have
a key.”
She fumbled in her pocket and came up with the key the newspaper owner
had given her. Groping the tabletop nearby, she found her phone, turned
it on and used the light from the screen to make her way to the exit.
She stared at the door, ran her fingers over the surface. There was
nowhere to insert a key. Frantic now, the key made a clink on the concrete floor
as she yanked on the safety bar. She tried pushing it. The only portal out of
this basement room was securely locked. She silently cursed wave after wave of
internal trembling that took over her knees and made her hands quake.
Flattening her palms on the cold steel, she gripped it in an attempt to steady
the quakes.
“We’re locked in.”
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