Yesterday's Thief: An Eric Beckman Paranormal Sci-Fi Thriller by Al Macy

Author:Al Macy [Macy, Al]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-02-11T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When the three men burst into the front of the restaurant, Viviana was already most of the way to the kitchen. She glanced back at Zachary. He was pointing at her, the little traitor. She’d begun to like him. What a snake.

The first man brought something up and pointed it at her. A camera. Ah, paparazzi. Not FBI.

The cooks looked up as she sped through the kitchen and out the back door. Her compact trail-running backpack hugged her back. It had the money, gold, and more from her cache, plus a few critical tools. Her new, top-of-the-line hybrid athletic shoes gave her an edge. She’d ditched the fashionable but impractical Converse sneakers.

She flew out the kitchen exit and sprinted across the parking lot. Amazing what a little adrenaline will do.

The lead man was fast. The kitchen’s screen door slammed open. “Wait, Viviana. Just one photo, please. I’ll help you escape.”

Fat chance. She vaulted the cedar fence at the back of the lot. Cars squealed around the building, their headlights illuminating the bare tree branches. They’d have to go back to get to the road into the housing development. Would any of them chase her on foot? From the glance in the restaurant, none had seemed particularly fit.

How many would chase her? Just a few? Of course not. She was the top news story in the world. Hundreds could be swarming around, eventually. If they cornered her, all would be lost. She needed a good hiding place, somewhere she could sit undetected for twelve hours or more.

She pulled the pry bar out of the side pocket of her pack and stopped by a car with a roomy trunk. Few realized how easy it was to pop an automobile’s trunk open. She looked around. No one in sight.

She slipped the bar’s hook under the lip, near the latch, and levered the trunk open. Pop. Easy.

An alarm blared and she dropped the pry bar. It sounded like some kind of spaceship. La naiba! Burglar alarms in cars. That was new. And bad. Very bad.

She picked up the pry bar and tore down the block. She jumped behind a hedge. Four cars raced toward the blaring car. Okay, nice diversion. She zipped the tool back into her pack and put another few blocks between her and the photographers.

Would climbing a tree work? Probably not. Wait. A tall oak grew next to a two-story home. Without hesitation, she ran to it and flowed up the trunk, past a window, and onto the gently sloped roof. Perfect. She tiptoed over to the chimney—would the residents hear her?—and lay back with her head on the crown of the roof. Her pack was lumpy, but she kept it on. She might have to leave in a hurry.

The sounds of rapid footsteps came to her from below. Voices, too. “No, she wasn’t. I would have seen her.”

The night was warm. She looked up at the sky and closed her eyes to think. Maybe she should have gotten on a bus and traveled to a remote city.

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