6 Martini Regrets Read Online Free
Author: Phyllis Smallman
said? They’re coming for you. Maybe it was the police. For one brief moment hope sprang to life again. But Angie was afraid of the people coming. Would Angie be afraid of the police? And if Angie was afraid of the people who were coming, I was petrified.
They’re going to kill me. It wasn’t the police who were coming.
I wasn’t involved. I’d witnessed nothing and was no threat to anyone. I was just an innocent victim of a crime, so they had no reason to harm me. But somehow I didn’t think innocence was going to protect me.
CHAPTER 5
One thing I was sure of: the approaching lights weren’t coming down Last Chance Road to rescue Sherri Travis. And I was also pretty certain they weren’t coming for gas.
Maybe when the men in the cars saw that the lights were off in the store and there were no cars on the apron, they’d leave, wouldn’t even get out of their cars and look around. Sure . . . that was a likely scenario . . . in someone else’s nightmare. If they were coming way out here, they’d search back and front, and no matter where I was, they’d find me.
Still, no problem: I’d tell them everyone but me had gone, explain that my pickup had been stolen. What would happen then was either a lift to the next exit or something I didn’t want to imagine. In any case, I wanted it to be my decision whether they found me, and I needed to see them before I committed to showing myself. If they were normal people only interested in pumping gas, I could just pop out and bum a ride. But how do you tell regular people from psychopaths?
I scanned the shadows around me. I’d been around the building more than once and knew it offered no concealment. Where could I secrete myself except in the grasses? It was a terrifying prospect. It wasn’t just alligators I feared. In the summer a python had been killed with a whole alligator inside of it. The python had just squeezed its body down along that bumpy surface, swallowing and spreading itself, until it had ingested the entire gator. I wouldn’t even be a challenge.
I ran around to the back of the building, out of sight of the lights that would soon sweep the gas bar. Flattened against the wall, my heart racing, I searched for cover. I spied a small opening, a little break in the line of shrubs across the back of the parking lot. I headed for it with no clear idea of how it would help me. What I found was an opening to a twelve-foot-wide drainage ditch. Drainage canals run along Alligator Alley from Naples to Homestead. They were created when material was scooped out from the ditches to raise the pavement above the water in the swamp, keeping the road from flooding. Now these canals are a roadway for migrating gators and other forms of wildlife.
There was a canoe. I’d found my way out. There was only one problem. While the bow was pulled three feet up onto the sand, the paddle floated in the water just beyond my reach. If I wanted it, I had to step into the black water to retrieve it. I hovered there, with only the toes of my pink flip-flops in the stream, thinking of what swam beneath the surface and trying to find some forgotten courage.
The full moon shone on the water like a spotlight, outlining the trees and shrubs along the channel. Something moving under the dark surface was causing a shiver of motion on the top. Ripples. Small waves of movement, from some unseen thing, disturbed the glassy plane. The canoe swayed in its wake.
I wasn’t going in the water. But maybe I didn’t have to; maybe I could get in the canoe and reach over the side to grab the paddle. I grasped the fiberglass sides, pushing the small craft off the sandy bank. The tiny waves from the movement of the canoe pushed the paddle farther away from me.
The lights from the cars swept around the corner, entering the parking area and shining over the building to light up the night sky.
There was no time to worry about possible threats when a real one had just arrived. I had to get
They’re going to kill me. It wasn’t the police who were coming.
I wasn’t involved. I’d witnessed nothing and was no threat to anyone. I was just an innocent victim of a crime, so they had no reason to harm me. But somehow I didn’t think innocence was going to protect me.
CHAPTER 5
One thing I was sure of: the approaching lights weren’t coming down Last Chance Road to rescue Sherri Travis. And I was also pretty certain they weren’t coming for gas.
Maybe when the men in the cars saw that the lights were off in the store and there were no cars on the apron, they’d leave, wouldn’t even get out of their cars and look around. Sure . . . that was a likely scenario . . . in someone else’s nightmare. If they were coming way out here, they’d search back and front, and no matter where I was, they’d find me.
Still, no problem: I’d tell them everyone but me had gone, explain that my pickup had been stolen. What would happen then was either a lift to the next exit or something I didn’t want to imagine. In any case, I wanted it to be my decision whether they found me, and I needed to see them before I committed to showing myself. If they were normal people only interested in pumping gas, I could just pop out and bum a ride. But how do you tell regular people from psychopaths?
I scanned the shadows around me. I’d been around the building more than once and knew it offered no concealment. Where could I secrete myself except in the grasses? It was a terrifying prospect. It wasn’t just alligators I feared. In the summer a python had been killed with a whole alligator inside of it. The python had just squeezed its body down along that bumpy surface, swallowing and spreading itself, until it had ingested the entire gator. I wouldn’t even be a challenge.
I ran around to the back of the building, out of sight of the lights that would soon sweep the gas bar. Flattened against the wall, my heart racing, I searched for cover. I spied a small opening, a little break in the line of shrubs across the back of the parking lot. I headed for it with no clear idea of how it would help me. What I found was an opening to a twelve-foot-wide drainage ditch. Drainage canals run along Alligator Alley from Naples to Homestead. They were created when material was scooped out from the ditches to raise the pavement above the water in the swamp, keeping the road from flooding. Now these canals are a roadway for migrating gators and other forms of wildlife.
There was a canoe. I’d found my way out. There was only one problem. While the bow was pulled three feet up onto the sand, the paddle floated in the water just beyond my reach. If I wanted it, I had to step into the black water to retrieve it. I hovered there, with only the toes of my pink flip-flops in the stream, thinking of what swam beneath the surface and trying to find some forgotten courage.
The full moon shone on the water like a spotlight, outlining the trees and shrubs along the channel. Something moving under the dark surface was causing a shiver of motion on the top. Ripples. Small waves of movement, from some unseen thing, disturbed the glassy plane. The canoe swayed in its wake.
I wasn’t going in the water. But maybe I didn’t have to; maybe I could get in the canoe and reach over the side to grab the paddle. I grasped the fiberglass sides, pushing the small craft off the sandy bank. The tiny waves from the movement of the canoe pushed the paddle farther away from me.
The lights from the cars swept around the corner, entering the parking area and shining over the building to light up the night sky.
There was no time to worry about possible threats when a real one had just arrived. I had to get
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