was Rachelâs back as she hunched over the plywood desk built into the back wall. That didnât look comfortable. âIâm done out here. Is there anything I can do to help?â
âNope. This tape is a mess. I need to talk to whichever of the twins did this today.â Frustrated, Rachel slid back in the folding metal chair and rubbed her forehead with both hands. âThose two are giving me a serious headache.â
Their teenaged cousins were not the most faultless of employees, but they were eager and worked hard. âThey just have a lot to learn.â
âI know.â Rachelâs sigh spoke more of her own tiredness than of her upset at the girls, who had both turned seventeen last month. âIâm just going to throw all this in a bag and take it home. Iâll make the deposit tomorrow.â
âSounds good to meââ
The lights blinked off and stayed off. Pitch black echoed around them.
Amy didnât move. âIt looks like we lost power. Do you think itâs off for good?â
It stayed dark. That seemed like answer enough. Amy was trying to remember where the flashlightswere when Rachelâs chair creaked and it was followed by the rasp of a drawer opening. A round beacon of light broke through the inky blackness. Leave it to Rachel. Amy breathed easier. At least theyâd be able to close up without feeling their way in the dark.
Lightning flashed, and immediately thunder crashed like breaking steel overhead. Closer. The front was coming fast and moving toward home. She thought of her little boy. Westin was safe with the baby-sitter, but heâd be worried. She couldnât call to reassure him. It wasnât safe with the lightning crackling overhead and besides, if the power was out, then the phone lines were probably down, too.
She grabbed her purse from the shelf and her jacket hanging next to it, working in the near dark, for Rachel was hogging the flashlight to zip the cash receipts and the dayâs take into her little leather briefcase. Once that was done, Amy hurried ahead and rechecked the front doorâlocked, just as it was supposed to beâand followed the sound of Rachel tapping through the kitchen toward the back door.
Outside seemed just as dark. An inky blackness was broken only when lightning strobed overhead and speared into the fields just out of town. It was definitely heading south. All she wanted to do was to get home before a tree or a power line blocked the road out of town.
She manhandled the door closed and turned the key in the dead bolt. The wind whipped and lashedat her, strong enough to send her stumbling through the puddles. In the space between lightning bolts, she could feel the electric charge on her skin. It came crisp and metallic in the air.
Rain came in a rage and it bounced like golf balls over the battered blacktop lot and over them. She hadnât gone two yards and she was drenched to the skin. Following the faint glow of Rachelâs flashlight, she let the wind hurl her toward two humps of shadows that became two parked cars as they stumbled closer. The windshields gleamed, reflecting the finger of fire sizzling overhead. Lightning snapped into a power pole a block or two away. The thunder boomed so hard, Amyâs eardrums hurt with the shock.
Maybe thatâs why she didnât see another shadow until headlights flashed to life. She recognized the row of piercing fog lights blazing atop a pickupâs cab. Oh, heavens. It was the two men whoâd hassled her in the restaurant.
It happened so fast. The truck screeched to a halt inches from Rachel, whoâd been in the lead. The passenger door thrust open and suddenly there he was, the dark form of a stocky man, muscled arms held out with his hands closed into fists. Everything about him screamed danger. He stalked toward Rachel like a coyote ready to strike.
Amy didnât remember making the choice to fight instead of run. She