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I don’t know why it makes me feel so strange that he accepted my request so calmly as if he were picking Mila up from school every day.
A quick call to her teacher reassured me that Mrs. Hayfeld would personally ensure that she hand Mila over to Zayn.
As I clear up the studio, I check the clock.
A golden head pops in the doorway. “I’ll be out in ten minutes. Cory’s picking me up any minute.”
Lorraine’s new boyfriend, a sweet young thing, refuses to let Lorraine walk home at night, something that I appreciate. He always comes to pick her up in his car.
“Okay. Are all the doors locked?”
“Bolted shut,” Lorraine says with a straight face. “No raccoon is getting in on my watch. No, sirree.”
“It’s not the raccoons we’re worried about,” I grin.
The young girl grins before popping back to the front desk.
My back is to the door, so I don’t see the light in the hallway turn off. Folding the towels, I am placing them on the rack when I hear a faint clutter.
Looking over my shoulder, I frown at the dark hallway. “Lorraine?”
There is no answer.
I make my way towards the other switch that is connected to the light in the hallway and flip it.
It doesn’t turn on.
“Lorraine?” I call again, sharply.
She doesn’t reply.
The dance studio by itself is a big building, but if the doors are open, voices carry. So, even if Lorraine is at the other end, she can still hear me.
Why isn’t she responding?
“Lorraine!”
Suddenly the darkness in the hall seems more sinister than before, and I am reminded that aside from Lorraine and me, there is nobody else in the building with us.
Another faint sound of something being dragged on the ground, down the long hall that opens to other rooms where classes are held.
Fear clogs my throat, but worry for my young receptionist overpowers it, and I move towards the rack that holds the towels. Detaching one of the silver beams that are used to hang the towels on, I make my way towards the door, brandishing my makeshift weapon, ready to bash someone’s head in.
“Lorraine, sugar, you out there?” I call, loudly.
The silence is nerve-wracking.
“If this is somebody’s idea of a joke, I’m going to beat your ass till you can’t walk for a month.”
I push my fear back, letting adrenaline take control.
“I’m going to stick this thing so far up your ass that even the doctors are going to have a hard time taking it out,” I threaten calmly, in a loud voice.
A scraping sound that is almost shrill echoes down the corridor.
Keeping my breathing even, I reach the edge of the door, and it is then that I notice that aside from the room I am in, every other room in the studio is dark.
Lights out, huh?
