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Her heart started beating harder.
That’s who it had to be.
A trap.
She’d heard those shoes when he escorted her inside, accompanied by the tapping of steel-tipped laces.
Click-click.
Tap-tap.
The footsteps stopped.
She could tell from the echo that he’d stopped at one of the hallway intersections, trying to figure out where she’d gone. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out she was trying to make her way back to the main entrance.
She backed away from the locked door. How in the hell were they alone here? Had this maniac rented it just to lure her to a place she felt comfortable?
Click-click.
Tap-tap.
She had to get the hell away from here. To somewhere, anywhere other than this locked door.
She peeled off to the right.
Click-click.
Tap-tap.
She sprinted down the corridor, slowing only to kick off her shoes to quiet her movements. But she wasn’t invisible. Fluorescent lights still buzzed overhead, and she assumed there could also be windows casting lights from the city.
She needed to get someplace where she could hide.
Of course…
The studio. If she could get there.
She tried to remember the layout from her previous visits. It was a large grid, with offices, makeup, and green rooms making up one half, and three studios on the other. To get to the studio side, she needed to run back in the direction she’d just come.
While, of course, avoiding the man chasing her.
She put a hand on the wall and followed it to the next juncture, then turned and ran up a corridor she hoped would take her back to one of the studios.
After what seemed like thirty yards or so, she froze.
Click-click.
Tap-tap.
He was in one of the corridors parallel to hers, still moving away from the studios.
Click-click.
Tap-tap.
She waited until she was sure he’d passed her, then she ran toward the end of the hallway. With her hands still outstretched, she finally hit a tall studio door.
She knew Studio A was the first one she’d come to.
