The Heart Has Reasons Read Online Free PDF Page B

just before the open bathroom door. 
She was in the stall, hidden from view by a heavy-fabric shower curtain. 
He was about to move on to the bedroom when the handgun-shaped lump concealed
beneath the folded towel on the vanity caught his eye.
    Moving
on silent feet and keeping an eye on the shower curtain, he extracted the
weapon from under the towel.  Back in the hallway, he quickly ejected a
dozen Hydra-Shoks from the magazine.  High-powered ammo for a
housewife.  He pocketed the rounds, then returned the weapon to its hiding
spot beneath the towel.
    * * * * *
    As Larissa blow-dried her hair, her sense
of uneasiness remained as a small tense knot in the pit of her belly. 
After donning a pair of yoga pants and sport bra, she carried the 9mm to the
kitchen, grabbed the wine bottle from the refrigerator, and filled a glass to the
brim.  She gulped half, and moved into the living room, gun in one hand,
wine glass in the other.  The mixed school of African cichlids rushed to
the front of the aquarium at her approach.  Placing the 9mm on the sofa,
she turned on the tank light, lifted the half-lid, and sprinkled a pinch of
fish flakes on the surface of the water.
    Taking
a seat on the sofa, she picked up the remote and spent the next few minutes
channel surfing as she sipped from her glass.  The wine was having the
desired effect, for her jitteriness was quickly fading.  Unfortunately,
with over a hundred different television channels to choose from, she couldn’t
find anything interesting to watch.
    Suddenly
tired, her fingers seemed unaccountably slow as she fumbled to press the remote
control buttons.  Tendrils of fog began seeping into her mind. 
Strangest of all, her lips were going numb.  And then realization struck.
    Someone
had drugged her.
    Blinking
lethargically, she sat the wineglass on the glass-topped end table with a loud clink, somehow managing not to spill it.  Someone had been in her
house.  Maybe someone still was.
    Sparrow?
    Despite
whatever drug flowed through her veins, a tentacle of fear slithered through
her.  She fumbled the 9mm into her grasp and lurched to her feet, bumping
the end table in the process.  The wine glass tumbled to the floor,
splashing the remains of the wine across the carpet.
    Struggling
to stay conscious and on her feet, she launched herself in the direction of the
kitchen, feeling as though she were slogging through knee-high mud.  As
she reached for the phone with uncooperative hands, there was movement at the
edge of her vision.  In what seemed to be slow motion, she turned to find
a ski-masked man standing before her.
    The
9mm seemed to weigh fifty pounds.  With her free hand assisting, she
concentrated her last vestige of strength on the Herculean task of raising the
weapon.  Targeting his chest, she squeezed the trigger.  Instead of
the expected boom , however, there was only an empty metallic click .
    While
she teetered dizzily on the brink of unconsciousness, the intruder casually
reached forward with a black-gloved hand and took the weapon from her. 
Then he spun her around and clamped a gloved hand over her lower face. 
With his mouth next to her ear, he said softly, “Always check that your weapon
is loaded.”
    As
she feebly tried to struggle from his grasp, a shroud of darkness enveloped her
in its comforting embrace.

CHAPTER
4
     
     
     
    Chase caught his target as she started to
collapse and carried her to the living room where he deposited her on the sofa.
 Plucking the unbroken wineglass from the carpet, he returned to the
kitchen.  The contents of the wine bottle and the tea pitcher went down
the sink.  He washed the wine glass and pitcher and set them in the dish
drainer.  The wine bottle went into the trash.
    Returning
to the living room with a generous handful of paper towels, he blotted the
spilled wine from the carpet.  After discarding the towels, he removed the
garbage bag and set it by the back door.
    He
reloaded the Browning