LITMIR.BIZ

      Darkness and silence settled into the linen room like one of the thick quilts Fawn’s great-grandma used to tuck around her when she spent the night. The sounds outside had faded just a few seconds ago—but not before Fawn heard the crackly voice of the policeman’s radio informing him they were surrounding the place.

      She pulled off her shoes once again. She couldn’t run well in them, especially with the twisted ankle. She crept through the darkness, feeling her way along the edge of the shelves until she reached the doorway with the narrow line of light edging the bottom. No sound came from beneath that door.

      Holding her breath, she reached for the doorknob and started to turn it. The hard metal felt cold in her hand. There was a soft click, and she froze again.

      “Check all these rooms,” came a man’s voice, echoed by the sound of brisk footsteps. “Don’t take any chances, she could be armed.”

      There came the sound of a latch turning, and Fawn caught her breath. It wasn’t this door. They must be searching the room across the hall. They would come here next.

      She plunged her hand into her purse and felt for the book of matches she’d taken from an ashtray in the suite. As the sound of new footsteps reached her, she ripped a match out and struck it hard against the base. It flared, and she held it high to search for any vents or removable grates along the wall or ceiling—she’d seen people escape that way a lot in movies.

      The footsteps drew closer. The flame burned her fingers and she dropped the match, stifling a cry of pain. Tucking her purse beneath her arm, she struck another match, then braced herself and touched the flame to the entire book of matches, holding the tip of the cardboard cover.

      It flared brightly, startling her. She gasped, bit her tongue.

      There was no grate, no vent she could squeeze into. But she might be able to scoot beneath two stacks of towels in the corner, if she curled herself into a tight ball. She shook the flaming matchbook before it could burn her fingers again, just as a door closed across the hall.

      “Not in here. Block this—”

      The scream of an alarm shot across the room, smacking Fawn with an almost physical force. The ceiling started to rain.

      Instinctively, she scuttled toward the stacks of towels where she’d intended to hide, and plunged through a tumble of terry cloth. She heard muffled shouts from the hallway and more footsteps, but the door remained closed.

      Her teeth had begun to chatter before she realized she must have been the one to set off the alarm with her matchbook flare. If she hadn’t already been in big trouble, she would be now, for sure. What happened to a sixteen-year-old convicted of murder and attempted arson?

      She had to get out of here!

      The shriek of the alarm continued to blast her as she worked up the guts to climb from her hiding place and creep back across the room. She opened the door, bracing for a gang of uniformed men to surround her and shove her to the ground.

      No one stood outside the door. She peered out, both directions. Nobody. That wouldn’t last long. Tucking her purse under her arm, she turned right and plunged along the brightly lit hallway, hopefully in the direction of the hotel section of the building—and an exit door.

      The alarm paused, and a tinny voice came from a speaker overhead. “Attention. Attention. The automatic fire alarm has been activated. Please proceed to the nearest staircase to exit the building. Do not use the elevators.”

      If she could find a service elevator, maybe she could get upstairs. That way she could blend in with the crowd of hotel guests who would be making their way to the stairwells.

      “Guard those doors!” came a voice from up ahead, just past a corner in the hallway.

      Another alarm blast nearly deafened her from a speaker just overhead, followed by the same announcement.

      “…can’t block the people from getting out of the building,” came the reply, and the echo of footsteps, and the sound of excited breathing…coming closer…

      “Of course we can’t stop them,” came the sharp retort. “Just look for the woman!”

      She came to a door and shoved it open, stumbled inside just as the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway. She hovered in the darkness, afraid to breathe for several seconds, until the men continued along the hallway in the direction she had been going. She waited until the sound dwindled, then scuttled back into the shadows. In the dim light that came through the open door, Fawn could tell this was a prop room, with a black cape and top hat on a table in the front right corner. She saw a chest—or a cart—beside the table. A magician’s cape? A magic show of some kind?

      “Did you check that room?” came another man’s voice as footsteps once again echoed in the hallway. “Hurry. Search where you can.”

      “But the alarm—”

      “Just check the room!”

      Fawn skittered toward the cart and dived behind it. She had worked backstage at a theater with a magic act in Las Vegas. These carts were big enough for someone to hide inside…if she could just remember how to unlatch—

      “Can’t find the light switch.”

      She found the latch

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