Samantha took a taxi from the SkyTrain terminal to Chinatown that blustery night. She was happy with the progress she’d made on her novel in the two weeks she’d been away. But the breakup with Don when she’d left had not gone well, and she cringed at the thought of having to deal with his temper again.
Tired and soaked to the skin, Samantha climbed the stairs to her friend’s apartment. The door stood ajar, which was curious. Siobhan should have been at work. When Samantha peered in, she could just see the outline of two ominous figures skulking in the gloom. She gasped and slammed the door shut. She could hear their muffled shouts as she flew, screaming, down the stairs into the street.
Gripped with fear, and shielding her face from the driving rain, Samantha dodged between jousting umbrellas and the spray from the headlong rush of the traffic that threatened to thwart her escape.
