Page 127 of Trick or Stalk

Candy dishes, plastic skeleton hands, cobwebs, and other décor spill across the floor.

For one stunned second, I simply stare at the mess.

Then I grab the door handle and twist it.

The door won’t open.

“Oh, come on.”

I yank harder.

The door doesn't move.

“No. No, no, no.”

I brace my foot and pull with both hands.

Nothing.

“Seriously? Come the hell on!”

My heart starts pounding. Sweat is running down my back.

I’m not a fan of small spaces. And this one is starting to get to me.

I try the knob again, pulling as hard as I can.

“No, dammit. Come on.”

My sweaty hands slip, and my shoulder slams against it. Sharp pain cuts through me, and I grit my teeth.

Dammit. I rub it, eyeing the door.

Mustering up every bit of strength I have, I grip the handle and yank.

It won’t budge.

I let go of the knob and step back.

I reach into my back pocket to pull out my phone... but it’s not there.

Shit.

I left it under the counter.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

All rational thought leaves, replaced by panic.

What if no one comes into the store?

I look at my watch.

It’s 8:30.

The bookstore doesn’t close until 10:00 tonight.

Gracie probably won’t get here until 10:15.