Twenty-four hours later Lou was beginning to wish someone did know he was there, as long as it wasn’t people hunting for him. He was getting a raging case of cabin-fever but—he hated to admit it, even to himself—he was afraid to venture out and explore on his own. Every time he thought about it, he wondered if he really was safe, even though he knew the Marshals were covertly watching him until Walter put in an appearance.
He was sitting in the living room, staring at some television program—or rather, vaguely listening to it—when he thought he heard something in the hallway. He quickly double-checked to be certain the light on the security box said it was armed.
It’s just someone else who lives on this floor. That’s all it is. Probably whoever lives next door.
Then there was a knock on
