Death of a Starling by Linda Norlander

Author:Linda Norlander [Linda Norlander]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Level Best Books
Published: 2021-05-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Closet

The closet had little ventilation, and it didn’t take long before my head started to pound from the smell of the cleaning chemicals. I had to get out of this room. The darkness pressed in on me.

A little sliver of light shone through the bottom of the door. It was enough that when my eyes adjusted, I saw I was in a small room surrounded by shelves of cleaning products, toilet paper, paper towels, and greasy rags. In the corner stood a janitor’s broom, a mop, and an empty pail.

When enough time had passed that I was sure Bill and Matt were gone, I tried the door. It was firmly locked. Fighting off panic, I dug through my bag for my phone. If all else failed, I could call for help.

When I turned on the phone, three text messages popped up. Two were from Jim letting me know that he couldn’t make it back this weekend. The first said, can’t come back. Jake not doing well. The second asked me to respond. Did you get my message???

The other message was from Travis. Let me know you got home safely.

Sure. I planned to get home safely as soon as was out of this closet. If I called for help, how would I explain myself? Uh oh, sorry. Accidentally locked myself in the janitor’s closet? Oops?

Sighing, I called Travis feeling very sheepish. Nothing happened. Staring at the phone, I saw I had no bars. I was locked in a room filled with toxic air and my phone had no bars. My chest tightened like someone held me in a bear hug. I started to pant. Ever since I’d been locked up in that crowded holding cell in Queens, I had a fear of enclosed places. I needed to calm down.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Worst case scenario, you’ll be stuck here until morning.”

The thought of being in this closet until tomorrow did not settle me down. “You’re smart. You’ve got an MFA in poetry. Can’t you figure out how to get the door unlocked?”

Emily Dickinson was not going to get me out of this jam. I thought about Florice and her milkmaid. What would Rose do? She’d dream about Thorgest, knowing he’d eventually come to rescue her. None of the possible rescuers in my life knew I was locked in a closet at Cascade High School.

“Guess you are on your own.”

I used the flashlight on my phone to survey the room. Maybe Ed the janitor had something I could use to pry open the door. I searched the shelves but found no prying tools. On a high shelf, though, I spotted a red baseball cap. It had the confederate logo on it.

“Is everybody around here part of the militia?” I took a breath of the rancid air and tried to relax my tensed-up shoulders.

Maybe I could use my credit card to slip the latch on the door. After fumbling for several minutes to wedge the card between the lock and the doorframe, I gave up.

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