She stared at the computer screen a few minutes more, and then with a shake of her head returned to Gabriella Mendoza’s file. She had just finished updating the records when she heard the back door open and footsteps in the hallway.
Sloan glanced at her watch and frowned. She hadn’t expected the cleaning crew this early. “Miguel,” she called out, “is that you?”
There was no answer.
The footsteps quieted, and she strained to hear another sound. Nothing but silence. A chill ran up her spine, and she eased up out of the chair. “Carlos?”
“Miguel and Carlos could not make it tonight,” someone said, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. There was something familiar about the clipped, precise tone of the man’s voice. She’d heard it somewhere before.
She took a step toward the door to investigate, but before she reached it, a tall figure emerged from the hallway shadows and loomed over her. She stumbled backwards, shaking her head. No, it couldn’t be. What was he doing here? Was this a hallucination or had she conjured him and his demons up from the shadowy realm of perdition where they existed?
She stared up into the cruel eyes she’d encountered five years ago in Africa, and her knees went weak. This was no dream. He was real and so was the dark figure standing behind him. Shaking her head, she inched backwards until her legs pressed against the desk. She struggled to find her voice. “N-no, it can’t be,” she rasped.
Targeted
Copyright
2016 by Sandra Robbins
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