Page 49 of Sinister Games

CHAPTER15

LIZZIE

Iwoke up with a start. Realizing I had fallen asleep on the sofa, I pushed my hair out of my eyes and listened for what must have awoken me. I could still hear the rain and the room was pitch dark so it must be the middle of the night.

I stayed still and listened. After a moment, I heard it. A loud steady pounding on my door.

Oh, God. Richard.

I knew it must be him without even having to look through the peephole. Blindly I searched for my phone. I found it on the floor among the discarded covers. With shaking hands, I activated the screen and hit texts. My text glared back at me. Nothing in response.

Maybe it wasn’t Richard.

“Elizabeth, open the goddamn door.”

With a start, I dropped my phone.

Fuck.

A wave of dizziness hit me as I tried to stand. Reaching out for the sofa arm, I tried to slow my beating heart. I knew it was fear and not the amount of alcohol I had consumed hours earlier.

No, this was fear. Stark raving fear.

Barely feeling my legs, I hobbled to the small entranceway. Reaching out a shaking arm, I started to lift the cover off the peephole and then stopped, too afraid to see his stormy visage.

Clearing my throat, I tried to sound stern. “I don’t want to talk, Richard. Call me tomorrow.”

Nothing. Silence.

Blood rushed in my ears as I strained to listen for the sounds of his retreating footsteps. Thinking I couldn’t hear them over my racing heart, I dared to step closer. Keeping close to the wall, I leaned against the door and listened.

I heard the scrape of a heel and leaned in closer.

A fist slammed against the door; my hand flew to my mouth, stifling a scream as I flew back against the wall, stumbling as I scrambled to back away.

“You have to the count of three.”

Oh, my God.

“One.”

“I’ll call the police.”

Reaching through the darkness, I ran my hands over the kitchen counter before throwing open the drawers, looking for a weapon, anything.

“Two.”

Where the hell had I left my mobile? Falling to my knees in front of the sofa, I swiped my hands over the carpet, searching for my phone in the darkness, wishing for a shaft of lightning to brighten the room.

“Please, Richard. We can talk tomorrow,” I shouted over my shoulder, over the rumble of thunder, which was so loud it shook the room, stretching my nerves even further.

“Three.”

A cold invisible hand clenched at my throat and choked the breath out of my body as I stared wild-eyed at my front door. Using the sofa for support, I stood on trembling limbs… and waited.

The sickening sound of splintering wood rent the silence.

My wooden door crashed open, dangling from only one hinge as it lurched to the side.

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