CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Stella sat bolt upright, breathing hard, scattering her covers. She groped for the g*n on her bedside table, fumbling the grip into her hand as she stared around the gloomy room. Quickly, she snapped the light on.
She’d been sure someone was in the room with her. She’d sensed his breathing, and the almost imperceptible movements that the shadowy form had made as he edged toward her. She’d seen the gleam of his eyes in the muted light that filtered in from outside and she’d heard the distinctive creak the floorboards made under his otherwise quiet footfalls.
Fear prickled her spine at how intense, how believable, that short dream had been. It had been more vivid than reality.
But the room was quiet and the chair was still under the door handle. She could hear nothing wr
