JК
Are You Afraid Of The Dark :: Sheldon Sidney
Страница: 7 из 173Go down to the first-" The man raised his arm, and there was a gun with a silencer in his hand. "Out of the car, lady. Fast!" Diane turned pale. "All right. Please don't-" As she started to open the door, the man stepped back, and Diane slammed her foot down on the accelerator and the car sped away. She heard the rear window smash as a bullet went through it, and then a crack as another bullet hit the back of the car.
Her heart was pounding so hard that it was difficult to breathe.
Diane Stevens had read about carjackings, but they had always been remote, something that happened to other people. And the man had tried to kill her. Did carjackers do that?
Diane reached for her cell phone and dialed 911. It took almost two minutes before an operator answered.
"Nine one one. What is your emergency?" Even as Diane was explaining what had happened, she knew it was hopeless. The man would be long gone by now.
"I'll send an officer to the location. May I have your name, address, and phone number?" Diane gave them to her. Useless, she thought. She glanced back at the shattered window and shuddered. She desperately wanted to call Richard at work and tell him what had happened, but she knew he was working on an urgent project. If she called him and told him what had just occurred, he would get upset and rush to her side-and she did not want him to miss his deadline. She would tell him what happened when he got back to the apartment.
Suddenly a chilling thought occurred to her. Had the man been waiting for her, or was this just a coincidence? She remembered the conversation she had had with Richard when the trial began:
I don't think you should testify, Diane. It could be dangerous.
Don't worry, darling. Altieri will be convicted. They'll lock him away forever.
But he has friends andRichard, if I didn't do this, I couldn't live with myself.
What just happened had to be a coincidence, Diane decided. Altieri wouldn 't be crazy enough to do anything to me, especially now, during his trial.
Diane turned off the highway and drove west until she reached her apartment building on East Seventy-fifth Street. Before she pulled into the underground garage, she took a last careful look in the rearview mirror. Everything seemed normal.
* * *
THE APARTMENT WAS an airy, ground-floor duplex, with a spacious living room, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a large, marble fireplace. There were upholstered floral sofas, armchairs, a built-in bookcase, and a large television screen. The walls were rainbowed with colorful paintings.
Her heart was pounding so hard that it was difficult to breathe.
Diane Stevens had read about carjackings, but they had always been remote, something that happened to other people. And the man had tried to kill her. Did carjackers do that?
Diane reached for her cell phone and dialed 911. It took almost two minutes before an operator answered.
"Nine one one. What is your emergency?" Even as Diane was explaining what had happened, she knew it was hopeless. The man would be long gone by now.
"I'll send an officer to the location. May I have your name, address, and phone number?" Diane gave them to her. Useless, she thought. She glanced back at the shattered window and shuddered. She desperately wanted to call Richard at work and tell him what had happened, but she knew he was working on an urgent project. If she called him and told him what had just occurred, he would get upset and rush to her side-and she did not want him to miss his deadline. She would tell him what happened when he got back to the apartment.
Suddenly a chilling thought occurred to her. Had the man been waiting for her, or was this just a coincidence? She remembered the conversation she had had with Richard when the trial began:
I don't think you should testify, Diane. It could be dangerous.
Don't worry, darling. Altieri will be convicted. They'll lock him away forever.
But he has friends andRichard, if I didn't do this, I couldn't live with myself.
What just happened had to be a coincidence, Diane decided. Altieri wouldn 't be crazy enough to do anything to me, especially now, during his trial.
Diane turned off the highway and drove west until she reached her apartment building on East Seventy-fifth Street. Before she pulled into the underground garage, she took a last careful look in the rearview mirror. Everything seemed normal.
* * *
THE APARTMENT WAS an airy, ground-floor duplex, with a spacious living room, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a large, marble fireplace. There were upholstered floral sofas, armchairs, a built-in bookcase, and a large television screen. The walls were rainbowed with colorful paintings.