FIFTY-ONE
The sun was going from the front of the house.
Fingers of shadow spread across the hallway.
Leigh held her breath; a twinge of dread plucked at her stomach.
She listened.
Heard a slight flutter…
Probably a bird outside…
Then:
Light footfalls scurried behind her.
A hand clawed out roughly, catching her hair, cupping her mouth.
Cutting off her cry of “HELPPP—”
Struggling wildly, she broke free. Twisting away, she swung around.
And gasped, her heart lurching, the color draining from her face. Her legs trembled.
She felt herself swaying.
It can’t be.
It was…
Nelson.
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