Absolution Road by Rachel Blaufeld

Author:Rachel Blaufeld [Blaufeld, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Crossroads
Publisher: Rachel Blaufeld Publishing
Published: 2015-09-26T16:00:00+00:00

Aly

As I unlocked the door with Mav squirming in my arms, I heard the Hummer rumble away. I was drained and tired, but even if I’d been wide awake, there was no way I would have ever been prepared for what lay before me.

My place was wrecked. The furniture was all tossed about, garbage tipped over, the fridge wide open, the blanket from my bedroom dragged through the living area, and paper was scattered everywhere. My briefcase sat empty in the epicenter of the mess, a note tacked into the top of it by a knife.

A lump the size of Mount Washington formed in my throat, and my stomach clenched painfully. Someone had been in my place and gone through everything of mine, leaving a knife stuck in my briefcase. A threat?

I need to run, leave, go to the authorities, call Jake. Something!

My mind raced with everything I should have been doing, but my feet were glued to the floor. I couldn’t move a muscle. Standing there like an idiot, I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for it to all have been a bad dream when I opened them.

But my place was still a violent mess when my eyes opened again. Concentrating on breathing, I realized I was squeezing the dog to my chest when he yipped. “Sorry, little buddy,” I whispered against his small head and rubbed his ear, not daring to put him down.

I walked with false bravado toward the note. My hand trembled violently as I reached for the piece of stark white paper folded under the knife—and just before I pulled it out, common sense overtook me. I needed to call the police. If I removed the knife or tampered with anything, it might ruin the chances of figuring out who did this to me.

I stood up on legs almost as shaky as my hands and reached into the purse still hanging from my shoulder to pull out my cell phone. It took me three tries to dial 911 successfully. My finger kept bouncing and catching the two or the eight.

A woman’s brisk voice answered. “Hello, 911, how may I help you?”

“I’ve been robbed or I don’t know. Someone’s been in my apartment. My name is Alyson Road in Oakland.” I backed up toward the threshold where the door met the hall, putting some much-needed space between the scene and myself.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” she asked quickly, her businesslike tone turning concerned. “Are you inside your apartment? Is anyone inside with you?”

“No. Yes. N-no, I don’t know.”

“You may be in shock. You need to leave and go outside in case the intruder is still hiding somewhere inside. I’m dispatching police and an ambulance to 1121 South Hughes Street. Is that where you are, ma’am?”

“Yes. Apartment 3B.”

As I hurried down the steps to the vestibule of the building, a party buzzed loudly on the floor below me. They were having a great time while I was being robbed or assaulted, I wasn’t sure which, and for some irrational reason it made me angry.

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