Page 125 of Trick or Stalk

“Shit.” I glance back at the hallway. “I don’t wanna go back there.”

For one second, I consider leaving it until morning.

But I can’t.

That box is too heavy for Margaret to be lifting.

Besides, I refuse to become the woman who is afraid to walk into a storage room because an old bookstore makes noises.

I head toward the back hallway.

The light overhead flickers.

I stop.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

It steadies.

“Very funny.”

At the end of the hallway waits the heavy wooden storage-room door.

I slowly approach.

“You can do this,” I whisper.

I grab the handle and pull.

Nothing happens.

“Come on.”

I pull harder.

The door doesn't open.

Margaret warned me about this. Humidity makes it worse.

It was raining earlier. Now it’s humid.

I brace one foot against the floor and tug again.

Nothing.

“You're an asshole,” I mutter to the door.

I release the handle.

“I’m determined to do this.” I rub my hands on my jeans. “Third time's the charm.”

I grab it with both hands and yank. The door suddenly swings open.

I stumble backward, clinging to the handle to keep from falling on my ass.

“Jesus.”

My heart pounds.