She started walking gingerly toward the bathroom. Not gingerly enough. Her toe hit something hard. “Shit.” Trying to ignore the pain, she continued, using her hands to help her locate pieces of furniture she had to navigate around.
After what seemed like a cross-country trip, during which she was careful not to look behind her because something might be following her in the dark, she reached the bathroom and found the light switch by feel. Being able to see again calmed her a little. After using the toilet, she retrieved the phone from her pocket.
One glance convinced her that it was damaged beyond repair. What had been an intelligent electronic device was now an inanimate mixture of scrap plastic and metal. She threw it savagely into a wastebasket. What alternatives did she have? She was sure there wasn’t a house phone on this floor, but to make sure, she opened the bathroom door wide and used the light that came into the main room to scan it for a phone.
The piled-up furniture blocked her view of all the corners, but she didn’t see a phone in any of the logical places. She did see the stairs to the upper floor and those gave her an idea. She would use the phone upstairs. She found another switch that operated a light that lit up the stairs. She padded up the stairs slowly-her toe still hurt- and turned the latch of the door at the top.
The door wouldn’t open. It was locked from the other side. Shahla would have screamed, but there was nobody to hear her. Instead, she hit the door and hurt her knuckles. She plodded slowly back down the stairs. She was cut off from the world.
She saw a third switch and flicked it. A light in the ceiling came on. She immediately turned it off. It might be visible from the outside, even through the drapes. She walked over to the sliding door by the indirect light coming from the bathroom and the stairway. She peeked through the drapes.
It was almost dark outside. Maybe she could make a run for it to her house. She removed a security stick from the slide and was about to open the door when she saw something move out there.
She froze, momentarily, and then quickly pushed the drapes back into place. Even the dim light could silhouette her. She was panting as if she had just run up the hill from the beach. She went to the wall beside the door and pressed her body against it. She didn’t move for a few seconds. But she couldn’t stay here. She inched sideways slowly, and peeked through the drapes again.
At first she didn’t see anything except a last glow of daylight over the ocean. The house that was directly behind was too far down the hill to see, and apparently fences blocked lights from the houses on either side. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see shapes of trees and bushes in the yard. One of the bushes was large enough for someone to hide behind. It was located approximately where she had seen something move.
Shahla dropped to the floor and quickly crawled in front of the door, until she could reach the security stick, beneath the drapes. She replaced it in the track of the sliding door. Then she got up and ran back to the stairs, dodging furniture, and turned off that light. Next she turned off the light in the bathroom. She leaned against the wall, trying to get her breathing under control. No way was she going outside in the dark.
One of the pieces of furniture stored in the room was a couch. Once again in the dark, she carefully felt her way to the couch and sat down. She would spend the night here. It was large and soft, and she felt somewhat protected by it. A noise outside made her jump. It sounded like the howl of a cat. After a few seconds of panic, she determined that it was probably just that.
Her mother would be worried about her. That couldn’t be helped. She hoped the caller wouldn’t go to her house. If he knew what street she lived on, he must know her address. Were her mother and Kirk safe? He was apparently after her, and he knew she wasn’t at home. That didn’t make her situation any better, but at least it relieved her mind a little concerning her mother.
She could see the outline of a heavy lamp on a table beside the couch. If necessary, she could use that as a weapon. She intended to keep her ears open all night, but she soon became very sleepy. What had been in the punch? And how much had she drunk? Maybe if she rested for a few minutes, she would feel better. She put her head down on the couch.
CHAPTER 31
Tony couldn’t stay still. After he had left the Hotline, he had conducted another search of Bonita Beach by car. It was more difficult on a sunny Sunday morning than at night because a lot of people had apparently decided to go to the beach, perhaps for the last time this summer. Automobile traffic was heavy, as was pedestrian traffic, so if Shahla did happen to be walking, he could easily miss her.
He finally parked the car at the northern boundary of Bonita Beach and decided to walk the beach path the couple of miles to the south end and then back. He walked slowly on the concrete path, still favoring his left leg, attempting to observe everything that took place within sight and hearing.
A lot was taking place, what with the bicyclists, inline skaters, joggers, and walkers on the path. In addition, hordes of unconscious beachgoers constantly crossed the path without looking, intent on getting to the sand. As a result, near-accidents occurred regularly.
In addition to scanning the traffic on the path, Tony tried to check out all the girls on the sand catching the late summer rays. However, the beach was so wide that he couldn’t possibly get a good look at all of them. One of the attributes that made this beach desirable now worked against him. To help him concentrate, he scored the girls, depending on their looks and what they wore. He scored one for a pretty girl in a nice bikini. Using his system, he could score an additional point for an unfastened top or a thong.
Some of the best-looking girls were competing in a beach volleyball tournament. Competing here in the birthplace of beach volleyball, which was appropriate. Tony slowed down as he walked past the courts. He recognized Martha, Joy’s friend to whom he had spoken about her murder. She was partnering with another girl. She had a good figure. And her volleyball playing wasn’t bad, either. She couldn’t be the murderer. Especially if the murderer had kidnapped Shahla.
Shahla. He had to keep focused. He had to find her. He wondered if he would ever see her again. No, don’t think like that. Think positively. He would find her. Or somebody else would. He kept walking.
Shahla awoke because somebody was pounding on her head with a hammer in time to her heartbeat. She didn’t want to move, but she couldn’t stand not to. She had to make him go away. How long had she been asleep? She opened her eyes. There was a film over them, but she could see objects, however blurry they looked. It must be daylight outside. A little light was seeping through the drapes. She looked at her watch and blinked her eyes, trying to focus. As the watch hands slowly became clearer, she read the time as quarter to eight. She had slept all night. She sat up and immediately felt nauseated.
She sat on the edge of the couch, wondering whether she was going to vomit. The pounding in her head continued. She thought about trying to get to the bathroom, but was sure she wouldn’t make it. She sat motionless, waiting for the nausea to pass. After a few minutes, her stomach steadied, although her headache continued. She got up, feeling wobbly, and made her way to the bathroom.
After using the toilet, she thought about what she could do to make her body livable. She didn’t have any pills with her. She didn’t have any food or drink. Water. She needed water. She turned on the sink faucet and placed her mouth under it. She sucked in the lukewarm liquid and swallowed it until she couldn’t drink any more. She straightened up and felt a little better.
She determined that the only food she had eaten since yesterday morning was whatever she ate at the party. She had snacked on chips and dip and other so-called food that Lacey had randomly pulled off the shelves of a supermarket, but nothing substantial. What Shahla needed more than anything else was a good meal.
And to call her mother. She suddenly realized that her mother must be frantic by now. Where was her cell phone? Then she remembered. Well, she’d better get home, on the double. She took the security stick out of the track of the sliding door and opened it. Once outside she closed it again. She took a look around, but of course nobody was there. Had she imagined that she had seen something last night? She might have seen an animal. Maybe the cat that howled.
The route to her house was two blocks downhill and then relatively level along Sandview Street. At least it
