Page 92 of Paranoid

He loped to his rig, climbed inside, switched on the ignition, and then reversed to the spot near where Harper was standing. “I’ll climb over first. Then you.”

Before she could ask any questions, he had made his way onto the hard top of his Jeep and placed his hands on the top of a post, then vaulted to the other side. He landed with a hard thud.

“Come on,” he called to her in a low voice.

Great. Harper didn’t like the idea, but wasn’t about to be left, so she did the same, scrambling onto the roof of his Jeep and standing up to peer over the fence. Xander was in the school yard, looking up, arms outstretched. “Come on,” he whispered and motioned quickly with his fingers. “I’ll catch you.”

This was nuts.

Crazy.

But she placed her hands on the post, hesitated an instant, then swung one leg over the top of the fence, straddling it for a second, then finally getting her second leg across. As she let go to drop to the ground, she felt strong hands at her waist, just before her toes touched the uneven ground.

“See, easy peasy. Come on.” He took one hand and they skirted the quiet school yard, where beneath the gaseous light of the lone security lamp, she spied pieces of broken play equipment, clumps of weeds, and piles of junk scattered between the school, hospital, and church.

Fear skittered up Harper’s spine.

This was wrong. So wrong.

She strained to listen but now heard nothing but an occasional car passing on the street and the soft sough of the wind over the frantic beating of her heart.

Where?

Where was the woman?

Maybe she’d left.

Perhaps she hadn’t been here in the first place.

And then she heard it. No words. Just a low moan that seemed to crawl through the night air.

Xander took her hand and pulled her toward the chapel. He placed a finger to his lips and she moved along beside him, trying desperately to tamp down her fear.

Creeeak!

That awful sound again. But there were no big trees, no strong wind.

Oh. God.

Fear chasing her, Harper kept up with Xander as he crossed the yard. They should leave. Now. Just call the police and let them take care of whatever they might find. An injured person? Or a crazed lunatic? What?

The door to the chapel hung open, sagging on one hinge, revealing the stygian darkness inside.

“I don’t think—” she started to whisper, but Xander gave a quick shake of his head and stepped through the opening.

Her throat dry, every nerve strung tight, she followed, through a small, rotting vestibule and into a larger space, what had once been a nave, a few pews remaining on either side of the aisle, the altar still intact. Above it all, a huge cross was still suspended. Though not Catholic, Harper sketched a sign of the cross over her chest.

What would it hurt?

A rat scurried across the dusty boards of the aisle and Harper let out a sharp scream.

“Shh!” Xander pulled her farther inside.

She held fast to his big hand, squinting to see in the dark.

What if someone else was here? Watching them? Maybe from the tiny choir alcove over the vestibule or . . .

Creeeak!