Keeping Promises Can Be Murder: A Lexi Taylor and Ray Jansen Mystery
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The couple was startled. The woman made a squeaking sound. The man said, “Damn!” They jumped up knocking both chairs over and ran out of the conference room into the hallway.
Mike ran after them yelling, “Stop! What are you doing here?” He ran after them as they rounded a corner and ran into the main vestibule of the office building.
Just as the couple entered the large open area that constituted the main entrance to the building the night watchman, Louie Goodman came running from the west side of the room. He shouted to the couple, “Hey!” He turned toward Mike, “What’s going on? What are these people doing in the building?”
Now the couple was running toward the outer door followed by Louie and Mike. They ran outside. Louie followed them, shouting curses, but they were too fast for him. By the time he reached the sidewalk they were nowhere in sight.
Mike stayed inside when Louie went after the couple and was
waiting when he came back in. Louie was breathing hard and his face was red. “Damn nut cases! What the hell were they doing here at midnight?” He looked at Mike for an explanation.
“They were in conference room two. I was just finishing the kitchen that’s off the conference room when I saw them sitting at the big table that’s in there. When I said something to them they ran out.
“How the hell did they get in?” Louie asked. I’m sure I locked this door.” He moved to the outer door to check the locks. “It’s open now. Did they open it when they left or did I forget to lock it?” he asked himself. “Well, they won’t get in this way again,” he said as he flipped the latch on the glass door.
“Are you going to notify the police?” asked Mike.
“Right now,” replied Louie. “You can get back to work. I’ll call you when they get here. They’ll have questions for you.
Mike entered conference room two plugged in the vacuum cleaner and was just about to turn it on when he heard a tremendous crash that sounded like glass breaking. Before he could think, he heard a loud bang. Gunshot? Was that a gunshot I heard? Louie, did
they shoot Louie? He stopped and turned toward the door. He wanted to run to the foyer to check on Louie. His heart skipped a beat before adrenaline took over and he ran, but not toward Louie.
He ran the opposite way down the hall from the way he’d just come. He was running toward the back of the building and the area where large packages were received. He was running toward a way out of the building. He was running for his life.
Every nerve in his body was alive. Sounds seemed amplified.
He couldn’t breath. He could just run. Two more shots rang out. To
Mike they seemed like explosions. He didn’t know why there were two more shots, and then he remembered. Oh my God, the Turners! Ron and his wife Liz were working in the bar. They must have come out to see what was going on and gotten shot, too.
Mike reached the door at the back of the building and hit the panic bar. He ran into the night. The rain soaked through his clothes before he got halfway across the parking lot. There weren’t many cars in the lot at that time of night, but Mike ran toward them. At least they provided some cover. The parking lot was well lit and Mike knew that he was highly visible to anyone who might be following him. The rain made the surface of the parking lot slippery which slowed Mike’s progress. Ahead was darkness. He ran toward it. The darkness would protect him. He was gasping for breath. He just couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He ran into the trees and bushes at the back of the parking area.
Mike’s legs felt like rubber as he ran. His face and hands were scratched by the bushes he ran past, but he didn’t feel anything. All he knew was that he had to run. RUN!
And run he did! He hadn’t run this far or this fast in a long time. Mike considered himself a real couch potato. Mike was getting tired and he began to stagger. He tripped over a tree root and went flying forward. He landed hard in a ditch that was filled with icy cold water. It took a few seconds for Mike to realize that he’d fallen.
He tried to get up, but his strength was gone. He still couldn’t get enough air into his lungs and now he was shaking all over. He couldn’t reach anything to grab so that he could pull himself up. His
head slipped under the water. He inhaled a big gulp of cold water and choked. He spit out the water and shifted so it was a little easier to keep his head above water. Mike’s system was still loaded with adrenaline. His hearing was still heightened. He lay in the freezing cold ditch listening for the killers to come for him. He heard rustling noises. He heard voices, “He has to be out here somewhere. Keep looking.” He heard footfalls getting closer and closer. They’re here! They’re going to kill me!
Email Susan at: susanhenkegoslak@gmail.com She’d love to hear from you.
About The Author:
Sue grew up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She has lived in Denver, Colorado; Del Rio, Texas; and Germany. She now lives with her husband in Perrysburg, Ohio. They are so content with their home that they have named it “Paradise” and even put up a sign with that name on it. She and her husband have three children. Their oldest son, a gifted artist, died at the age of 38. Their other son has blessed them with three grandchildren and two step-grandchildren. Their youngest child, a daughter, has special needs and lives in a group home near them. Sue is a retired elementary teacher. In her spare time she enjoys swimming, golf, gardening, painting, reading and visiting her grandchildren.
Sue says that she remembers a time when she was in high school and had to write a paper for one of her classes. She was very frustrated because she was typing it on a manual typewriter and kept making mistakes. Her Mom finished the paper for her, but she remembers saying, “I hate writing!” Now, if she feels frustrated if she can’t write every day.