Witness on the Run

As she packed her briefcase with the printouts of checklists and sign-up sheets for tomorrow’s pediatric cancer walkathon, she took a deep breath and reminded herself she loved her job as a special events coordinator. And she really did, but sometimes having alternate hours than the rest of the world was a drag.

On cue, her cell rang. She eyed the caller ID. Jenn.

“Hey, Jenn, what’s up?” Robin said.

“We’re waiting for you at the Five Spot.”

“What time is it?” She swung her briefcase over her shoulder and flicked off the desk lamp.

“Nearly nine.”

“I don’t know, Jenn. I’ve got so much work to do before the walkathon Sunday.”

“You’re not at work, are you?” she scolded.

“Uh…”

“You so shouldn’t be there, Robin. Come on, swing by the Five Spot. Right now. I’m ordering you a longhorn burger as we speak,” Jenn said.

Robin’s mouth watered. “You’re cruel, you know that?” She locked up the office and headed to the elevators. Being a parttime receptionist, Jenn didn’t have the same level of commitment that Robin had for her work.

“You really need to come join us,” Jenn added. “I got us a two-for-one deal on dinner.”

Robin noticed light streaming through an office down the hall. She thought she was the only one dumb enough, or most lacking a social life, to be at the office on a Friday night. Then again the building was home to its share of overachievers like Destiny Software Design, Remmington Imports and Vashon Financial.

Then there was Robin, whose job was her life. Since she was in charge of Sunday’s walkathon for the Anna Marsh Pediatric Cancer Foundation, she would probably be back here tomorrow working on volunteer rosters and donation lists.

“Hey, Trevor just showed up,” Jenn announced.

“Great. My hair’s a mess, my make-up is nonexistent, and I’m exhausted.”

“Tough. Get your fanny down here.”

“Thanks, but…” Her voice trailed off as movement caught the corner of her eye. Robin glanced into the Remmington Imports office on her right.

And froze at the sight of a tall, bald man aiming a gun at a second man who slowly raised his hands. Shocked and unable to process what she was seeing, Robin couldn’t move.

A resounding bang made her shriek. Every cell in her body screamed run! But for half a second her legs were paralyzed.

“What was that?” Jenn’s voice cried through the phone.

Robin stared through the window at the limp body on the floor. Blood spread across his crisp white shirt and seeped into the carpeting.

“He shot him.” Then her gaze drifted up from the wounded man to the shooter.

Cold, black eyes stared back at her. Death eyes.

He stepped toward Robin, pointed his gun…

She took off like the eighth-grade, track-and-field champ that she once was. Do it for your brother. Make him proud.

Her brother, Kyle. Looks like she’d be joining him soon. In heaven.

“No,” she groaned, turning a corner. She had more to do. She wasn’t ready to leave. She had to raise money for children’s cancer research. And, she wanted to raise a few kids herself someday.

Swiping her card, she ducked into the break room, flipped the lights off and crouched low to keep out of sight. She’d hide in here and call the police. Her phone, where was it?

The door beeped, and her heart jumped into her throat. The shooter had a passkey? She dropped to the floor, crawling through the darkened break room away from the killer.

Killer. She’d just seen a man murdered. In cold blood.

“No use running,” a male voice called out.

Robin took a slow deep breath and continued her crawl toward the exit. Think! Pull the fire alarm. That would bring help. But they wouldn’t show up fast enough to save Robin from this monster.

“I like the dark, too,” he taunted.

In the window’s reflection she spied the guy pointing his gun under tables, ready to pop off another round.

Into her.

She whipped open the door at the other end of the room, lunged into the hallway and pulled the fire alarm. Water sprayed from the ceiling as she scrambled to the stairs and hurled herself toward the ground level.

Pfft!

A bullet ricocheted off the wall mere inches from her head. Focus, girl!

“Get back here!” the man called. “A witness is on her way down. North stairs,” he said in a calm voice. “Take her out.”

Hoping to throw him off, Robin flew down three flights, whipped open the door and raced to the south stairwell. She couldn’t die tonight. There were a thousand people depending on her to run the cancer walk Sunday.

Strange, the odd things that rush through your brain when you’re being chased by a killer.

She practically tumbled down the last two flights of stairs to the street level and threw open the door. Now that she was outside, she couldn’t get to her car in the basement garage.

“Hey!” a tall, broad-shouldered man called, crossing the street.

“Take her out,” the killer had ordered.

She spun around and sprinted in the opposite direction, braced for the bullet that would surely hit her square in the back.

But he didn’t shoot her. She sensed he chased her, but she was fast, fueled by adrenaline.

For Kyle, Robin had said, as she’d placed her medal on her brother’s trophy. His one trophy. He hadn’t had time to win more.

“Stop!” the man called out.

Closer. He sounded too close.