Page 7 of Run While You Can

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh, flickering shadows across the floor.

Her car—a sensible Honda Civic that Colin had always mocked as boring—sat exactly where she’d left it. A handful of other vehicles dotted the space—most likely security and custodial workers.

Still, her heart gave a small, irrational kick.

The shadows between the concrete pillars seemed deeper tonight. Thicker.

Everything is fine. Don’t let fear control you. Then that man will win.

She had to constantly remind herself of those things—every hour of every day since the break-in.

Her heels echoed across the garage as she hurried to her car. She was fumbling with her keys when her phone rang.

She jumped, her keys slipping from her hands and clattering as they hit the concrete.

She grabbed the phone and glanced at the screen.

Unknown number.

That wasn’t unusual. Clients sometimes called from private lines, and Gina had learned to answer regardless of the hour, especially when deadlines and big cases were looming.

She grabbed her keys, unlocked her car, slid into the driver’s seat, and locked the doors quickly before answering. “Gina James.”

A breath sounded. Then—“Hello, Gina.”

She flinched.

The air stalled in her chest, and her fingers curled into her palms as the voice echoed in her ears.

Deep. Gravelly.

Unmistakable.

Her fingers went numb. The phone almost slipped from her grasp.

It washim.

Despite knowing, she still asked, “Who is this?”

Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her?—

“I think you know who this is.”

She did. God help her, she did.

It was that man.

The man who’d broken into her apartment.

The man who’d tied her up and studied her in the dark like he was memorizing her.

The man who had said he’d been watching her.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he continued.

She scanned the garage, her breath shallow.

The shadows between the pillars suddenly felt alive and threatening. Each vehicle was a potential hiding spot. And the darkness surrounding the garage felt like an omen that something bad was about to happen.