CHAPTER 48
A warble filled the air.
Jeff noticed Shelley’s pistol as she holstered it. It had no orange stripe. Was it real ammo? He could feel his breath catch and the blood draining from his face. How close had he just come to death? He hooked his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. He’d had enough of not knowing what was happening. He was tired of one cell after another, was this one any better than the Chicago high-rise? Three days there, three more here. He hadn’t seen any sunlight in almost a week. No freedom of movement.
This morning he’d opened the door of the guest level, awake and ready at four a.m. as ordered, but hadn’t dared move. That stupid bowling ball. It ran wild in the kitchen, the halls, it had appeared again in the workout room, this time crossing the track
