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under his feet. The bed creaked a little, but he doubted that the noise would carry beyond the room. Nobody beside the dresser. Nobody hiding alongside the bed. Turning around, he made sure the closet door was still shut. Then he stepped down, knelt, lifted the hanging coverlet, and checked the space beneath the boxsprings. Suitcases. He let out a trembling breath, then got to his feet. |
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Only the closet remained. He dreaded opening its door. But he had no choice. |
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He stared at it as he made his way around the end of the bed. |
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If the woman was in there, she'd probably heard him walking on the bed. She might even be able to hear his approach. Though his shoes were silent on the carpet, the plastic bags encasing him in their slick heat made crinkling sounds that might be picked up by keen ears behind the door. |
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He imagined her waiting in the darkness, the axe raised overhead. |
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He took a deep breath and held it. Reaching out, he closed his hand around the knob. He clamped the shotgun's stock tight against his side, hooked his mittened fingertip over the trigger, jerked the door open wide and leaped back. |
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Nobody lurched out at him. |
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He saw only rows of clothing on hangers. Liam's shirts and pants along the right side, Mary's blouses, slacks and dresses to the left. |
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Liam hadn't gotten rid of her things yet. Now, he wouldn't have to. |
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