Burned Bridges: Oliana Mercer Prequel

Chapters 23-24

The next day, I returned with Sam from our walk, settled into the house and inhaled the wintergreen scent from the candle sitting on the kitchen table. Next to it, the petals from the dozen yellow roses given to me by Marc had fallen and dried. Just more symbolism of my previous relationship. At least I can make a potpourri basket.

Sam barked, snapping me out of my thoughts. Then she growled.

Worry gnawed at me as I focused on the area that had Sam so agitated.

Olivia's room.

The door's opened. Olivia always closes her door before she leaves. She can't be back yet. "Hello?" I said, tapping it with my cane. "Olivia, I didn't know you were back."

I stepped inside and scanned the room. The mattress was flipped over, clothes were scattered about, and Olivia's memory box was turned on its side.

Creak.

I hobbled over to the closet, stood next to the vanity and reached for the knob, my hand trembling. I tightened my fingers around my cane and the knob and swung open the door.

Empty.

Suddenly, a set of icy digits touched the back of my neck, holding me firmly in place. I stared at the stocky intruder in the mirror. I registered only clothing: A baseball cap pulled down shielded his eyes and a brown shirt plastered with a marijuana logo covered his light skin.

"Please don't hurt me. I'm expecting a baby."

"Just be cool and drop your cane."

I did as he instructed.

He leaned his face forward to whisper in my ear.

"Did you know you're housing a murderer?"

"Who are you?"

"Answer the question," he said, squeezing my neck.

His breath reeked of tuna and onions. The stench repulsed me.

"She wasn't in her right mind," I said.

His grip loosened.

"Look, I don't have much—"

"If you want to live, don't call the police. If I get caught, I'll tell everything. You got it?"

"Yes."

He shoved me into the closet.

I threw my hands out in front of me to keep me from falling on my stomach, but I lost my balance and fell on my knees.

I cried out as a volt of sharp pain shot through my knee like a thousand sewing needles puncturing a pincushion. After the pain had slowed to a dull ache, I rotated my body, so my back leaned against the wall facing the door.

A few moments later the stranger rustled around in the room and propped something against the closet door. Not long after that, the front door shut.

Thanks for protecting me, Sam.

Pain knifed through my knee once, lasting for a second or two. As the pain subsided, I scooted across the carpet, tried the door knob, but the closet door wouldn't budge.

I struggled to stand in the cramped space.

Once on my feet, I tugged on the light cord, hoping to disperse my rising panic. In the corner, a bug worked to free itself from the cobweb that dangled from one beam to another.

Trapped.

Guess we have the same problem. "Olivia, Sam, somebody help," I said pounding on the door until my hand throbbed.