Read Online One Week To Live by Joan Beth Erickson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Joan Beth Erickson
Tags: Suspense, Contemporary
Ads: Link
continued.
****
Loud voices woke her from a sound sleep at 3 A.M. Listening, she groaned and rolled over. Her windows were closed and the wall air conditioner was running, but she could still hear her neighbors screaming at each other. Shouting a string of profanities, the husband stomped out slamming the door behind him.
This wasn’t the first time the couple exchanged angry words in the middle of the night. He worked the night shift at a nearby casino. On payday, he’d go to the casino bar, belt down a few, and head for the gaming tables where he’d promptly lose his week’s paycheck.
Angie hated casinos, avoided them when she could. The ringing of the slot machines, the shouts of winners, and the despair of losers overwhelmed her. The frenzied energy of those searching for the illusive pot of gold gave her splitting headaches.
She wondered how much longer the newlyweds could survive before the bride kicked the groom out. She knew firsthand about a marriage gone bad. However, she’d been the one to walk out. When her ex-husband’s inflated ego wouldn’t accept his wife leaving, she’d fled San Francisco and moved to San Diego.
The man had never laid a hand on her, but his demeaning verbal abuse during their marriage cost Angie her self-confidence. It took guts plus a women’s support group to finally leave him. The dead flowers brought back bad memories. The man possessed a sick sense of humor. When she’d left him, he’d sent her a bunch of dead flowers. This time the flowers came from the kidnapper, but it didn’t quiet the uneasiness they’d created. Love could be a cruel mistress. Not one she wished to tangle with again.
She drifted back into a fitful sleep. When she eventually woke, she remembered she needed to take the bus to work because her car remained impounded. Cursing the FBI, she showered, dressed, grabbed her stuff, and headed out. Fumbling with the key for the deadbolt, she dropped the key ring. When she picked it up, she spied a newspaper next to the door.
Her heart skipped a beat. Had the man been at her doorstep again without her sensing it? Angry with herself for being afraid of something so innocuous as a newspaper, she picked it up and peeled off the rubber band. Holding it away from her, she shook it. Nothing tumbled out. Relieved, she tucked the newspaper in her tote and took off at a run toward the bus stop.
****
Brian drove onto the Strip by habit. The traffic was fairly light at this hour. However, he knew bumper-to-bumper cars would soon crawl from stoplight to stoplight.
The MGM Grand loomed in front of him and memories of times with his son flooded back. The boy loved seeing the large golden lion guarding the front of the place. When they passed it, he’d growl and shout “Lion King.”
The candy store adjacent to the MGM Grand was his son’s favorite spot because of the four floors of chocolate heaven. The scent could make any candy lover drool. His son used to race to the second floor’s containers dispensing twenty-one different colors of peanut and plain candies.
These were good memories, but there were too few of them. Fighting the overwhelming sadness he felt every time he thought about his son, he turned his attention back to the road. He slammed on his brakes to avoid hitting two jaywalkers directly in front of him.
“Shit,” he swore. At the stoplight, he made a right onto Flamingo and drove toward Boulder Highway and Angie’s place. He started to turn off Boulder Highway onto her street when he spotted her sitting at a bus stop reading the newspaper. He pulled up to the curb. Looking up, she frowned. When she stood, she impatiently motioned him to move on. Damn , she’d seen the article.
Reaching across the car, he rolled down the passenger-side window. “Get in. I’ll give you a lift.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m taking the bus.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She again motioned him away.
“Angie.”
“I’m not talking to you.
****
Loud voices woke her from a sound sleep at 3 A.M. Listening, she groaned and rolled over. Her windows were closed and the wall air conditioner was running, but she could still hear her neighbors screaming at each other. Shouting a string of profanities, the husband stomped out slamming the door behind him.
This wasn’t the first time the couple exchanged angry words in the middle of the night. He worked the night shift at a nearby casino. On payday, he’d go to the casino bar, belt down a few, and head for the gaming tables where he’d promptly lose his week’s paycheck.
Angie hated casinos, avoided them when she could. The ringing of the slot machines, the shouts of winners, and the despair of losers overwhelmed her. The frenzied energy of those searching for the illusive pot of gold gave her splitting headaches.
She wondered how much longer the newlyweds could survive before the bride kicked the groom out. She knew firsthand about a marriage gone bad. However, she’d been the one to walk out. When her ex-husband’s inflated ego wouldn’t accept his wife leaving, she’d fled San Francisco and moved to San Diego.
The man had never laid a hand on her, but his demeaning verbal abuse during their marriage cost Angie her self-confidence. It took guts plus a women’s support group to finally leave him. The dead flowers brought back bad memories. The man possessed a sick sense of humor. When she’d left him, he’d sent her a bunch of dead flowers. This time the flowers came from the kidnapper, but it didn’t quiet the uneasiness they’d created. Love could be a cruel mistress. Not one she wished to tangle with again.
She drifted back into a fitful sleep. When she eventually woke, she remembered she needed to take the bus to work because her car remained impounded. Cursing the FBI, she showered, dressed, grabbed her stuff, and headed out. Fumbling with the key for the deadbolt, she dropped the key ring. When she picked it up, she spied a newspaper next to the door.
Her heart skipped a beat. Had the man been at her doorstep again without her sensing it? Angry with herself for being afraid of something so innocuous as a newspaper, she picked it up and peeled off the rubber band. Holding it away from her, she shook it. Nothing tumbled out. Relieved, she tucked the newspaper in her tote and took off at a run toward the bus stop.
****
Brian drove onto the Strip by habit. The traffic was fairly light at this hour. However, he knew bumper-to-bumper cars would soon crawl from stoplight to stoplight.
The MGM Grand loomed in front of him and memories of times with his son flooded back. The boy loved seeing the large golden lion guarding the front of the place. When they passed it, he’d growl and shout “Lion King.”
The candy store adjacent to the MGM Grand was his son’s favorite spot because of the four floors of chocolate heaven. The scent could make any candy lover drool. His son used to race to the second floor’s containers dispensing twenty-one different colors of peanut and plain candies.
These were good memories, but there were too few of them. Fighting the overwhelming sadness he felt every time he thought about his son, he turned his attention back to the road. He slammed on his brakes to avoid hitting two jaywalkers directly in front of him.
“Shit,” he swore. At the stoplight, he made a right onto Flamingo and drove toward Boulder Highway and Angie’s place. He started to turn off Boulder Highway onto her street when he spotted her sitting at a bus stop reading the newspaper. He pulled up to the curb. Looking up, she frowned. When she stood, she impatiently motioned him to move on. Damn , she’d seen the article.
Reaching across the car, he rolled down the passenger-side window. “Get in. I’ll give you a lift.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m taking the bus.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She again motioned him away.
“Angie.”
“I’m not talking to you.
Similar Books
