Woman On the Run Read Online Free PDF Page A

to have to try locating the source by flashlight.
    She entered the classroom, with its familiar smell of chalk dust. Mr. Big leered at her from his corner perch. She’d have to remember to tell Jim to leave it on the school steps when he finished cleaning.
    The lights flickered again in the shadowed room. Heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor outside the classroom, loud in the silence of the school. Someone was striding quickly, then stopping, then walking quickly again, as if—her heart started racing—as if looking for something…or someone.
    Don’t be silly , she told herself, but her heart continued its wild thumping, anyway. She pushed papers into her briefcase with shaking hands, cursing as one slipped to the floor. She could hear herself panting and made a conscious effort to slow her breathing. The footsteps stopped, then started again. Each teacher had his or her name taped to the door. If someone was looking for Sally Anderson…
    Stop, start…
    She grabbed her coat, trying to calm her trembling. Davis had spooked her, that was all. It was probably Jim…
    …except that Jim was an old man and shuffled…
    …or one of the teachers…
    …except that all the other teachers had gone home…
    Closer, closer…
    The footsteps stopped at her door and her gaze froze on the glass pane that covered the upper half of the door. She had to see who was out there, reassure herself that it was just one of the harmless citizens of Simpson and not…and not…
    A face pressed against the window. A man. He reached inside his jacket to pull something out.
    The lights went out.
    Julia whimpered and tried to think around the icy ball of fear that had formed in her mind. What could she use as a weapon? There was nothing in her purse but a pocket diary, keys and makeup. The kids’ desks were too heavy to lift, and the chairs were of lightweight plastic. Her hand brushed something hard and round. Mr. Big!
    Panting wildly, she angled her chair next to the door, climbed up on it and hoisted the enormous pumpkin in her arms. She stood, trembling, at the side of the door, ready to smash the man out there over the head. Her body tensed, going into fight and flight mode.
    The knob rattled.
    Julia closed her eyes and saw again the face that had been revealed in the bright fluorescent lights of the corridor.
    Overlong, straight black hair, framing a series of slabs angling harshly together to form cheeks and chin, a straight slash of a mouth, black eyes.
    An unfamiliar face.
    An unforgettable face.
    A killer’s face.

Chapter Two
     
    Sam Cooper felt like killing someone. Preferably his foreman and best friend, Bernaldo Martinez. Or, failing that, Bernie’s faithless, two-timing wife, Carmelita. Either one would do nicely.
    They should be the ones here, ready to talk to little Rafael’s teacher, not him. He’d rather walk across hot coals than have to deal with all this emotional shit. He had enough problems, what with rising feed prices and falling roofs.
    He hadn’t the faintest idea what he could possibly say to Rafael’s teacher. He only knew that Bernie was in no condition to talk to anyone right now.
    Cooper reached into his jacket to touch the notes the teacher, a Miss Anderson, had sent home with the little boy. He knew them all by heart, having reread them a dozen times since coming home after a business trip to Boise and finding Bernie passed out, clutching an empty bottle of cheap bourbon in one fist and the notes in another.
    He’d pried the notes out of Bernie’s hand, hoisted him over one shoulder and put him, fully dressed, in the shower stall and turned on the cold water tap.
    Bernie had come out of his stupor long enough to curse him weakly, then had fallen onto his bed, which hadn’t been made in a long, long while. Cooper had been tempted to leave Bernie as he was, in his sodden clothes on the unmade bed, but he’d given in with a sigh, undressed him and heaped blankets on him.
    Bernie would be feeling bad