Dana Mentink - Killer Cargo

What should she do? Call Cy? She scrambled through her backpack and looked on the floor for the scrap with his number on it. “Oh, no. I must have dropped it somewhere.”

She slid out of bed and hurriedly pulled on the pink sweat suit. Her skin prickled when she heard the sound again, closer this time, as if someone was walking a few feet from her window.

Had Cy locked the doors? Was she easy prey for the men who were looking for her? Her bare feet met the cold wood. As quietly as she could, she tiptoed down the corridor, praying the floorboards would not give away her location.

The house was dark, silent. Her panic increased with each passing step until she reached the kitchen. Sidling up to the window, she peered out into the darkness. The beam of a flashlight just outside the kitchen door flooded her body with terror.

A scream fought its way up to her mouth, and she sucked in a deep breath.

She watched in horror as the doorknob slowly turned.

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