Crap, she cursed silently.
Her cell phone was still in her handbag in the living room, out of reach—which meant she couldn’t call the police for help. She had no choice. She’d have to take the initiative and surprise the guy. Most burglars, she knew from her research, turned tail and ran the moment they realized they weren’t alone. She’d just have to make enough noise to wake the neighbors should the guy not flee instantly.
Gripping the hairdryer more tightly, she looked down at herself. It would help if she weren’t dressed in Hannah’s short pink bathrobe. Oh well. She’d have to confront the intruder dressed as she was. She’d left her clothes in the living room because there was no space for them in the tiny bathroom without risking getting them wet.
Just pretend you’re Morgan West. The protagonist of her popular bounty hunter mystery series would definitely not be quaking in his boots the way she was right now. Then again, in her defense, she wasn’t wearing any boots. She was barefoot. Great, she was about to become the main character in a horror movie: a scantily dressed blonde, without shoes, running for her life. Could this situation get any more pathetic?
Stop it, she admonished herself silently. If only her imagination wasn’t so active; she could come up with all kinds of possible scenarios for this moment, all of them turning out badly. Sometimes it was a curse to be a mystery writer: she knew too much about the dangerous and evil elements of society. Elements like the burglar she could now hear clearly rummaging through the living room. In a few minutes, he’d be gone and with him, her handbag and computer.
It’s now or never.
Taking a deep breath, she turned the doorknob with her left hand while gripping the hairdryer tightly in her right. At least she could hit the guy with it if he approached her.
Lilo eased the door open just enough so she could peer out into the short hallway. But she couldn’t see anybody from that angle. Cautiously, she opened the door wider and took one step forward. Beneath her bare foot, the old wooden floorboard creaked. The sound seemed to echo loudly, though that could just be the result of her nervous, overactive imagination.
Another step and she was in the hallway. The part of the living room she could see was empty. Her suitcase was still where she’d left it, though somebody had rifled through the contents, tossing them onto the floor next to it.
That proved it. It was definitely not Hannah who’d entered the apartment. Slowly and silently, she stalked into the living room, staying as close to the wall as she could, before peeking around the corner so she could see the entire room. It was empty. The small reading light she’d turned on earlier was still burning, but otherwise it was dark, probably giving the intruder the impression the apartment was empty.
Another sound reached her ears. The burglar had moved on to the kitchen. Was that how he’d gotten in? Through the kitchen window she’d opened to get rid of the foul smell?
As she approached the open doorway to the kitchen, she hesitated. If she surprised him in that small, confined space, he might panic and lunge at her. No, it wasn’t smart to corner him like that. What if he fought back?
Her eyes fell on her handbag, the contents of which had been emptied on the armchair. If she could get to her cell phone, she could then sneak out the front door and call the police without the burglar hearing her, and everything would work out fine.
She laid the hairdryer on the couch, then bent over the armchair, rifling through her possessions. She shifted involuntarily. Her foot landed on something soft. A squeaking noise ripped through the silence.
Shit! She’d just stepped on one of Frankenfurter’s squeaky toys.
Frantically she tried to find her cell phone, but it wasn’t on the chair. The intruder must have taken it.
Damn it!
Heavy footsteps behind her made her whirl around. It was too late. A strange man charged into the living room, glaring at her as if she were the intruder. Light reflected from somewhere, making his eyes appear red, as if he were the devil incarnate.
Fuck! This guy wasn’t the type to just turn tail and run.
Lilo lunged toward the front door, desperate to escape. She could always buy a new computer and get her credit card company to issue her a new card. Better run now and deal with the consequences later.
Her hand was on the doorknob when she was jerked back by two strong hands gripping her shoulders. The guy flipped her around and tossed her in the other direction. She landed with her back on the old couch, legs in the air.
She pulled herself up quickly, trying to get away, but he was already charging at her again.