Cyn

Collette glanced behind her.  Nothing.  She was sure she heard footsteps, but if someone had been following, she couldn't see them now.  Walking back to her apartment, after the restuarant closed was the worst thing about being a business owner. More than once she wished that Harlan Hamilton would offer to escort her the four blocks to her apartment, but not once in the eighteen months he'd been security for La Roca had he done so.

Around her the cold night air acted as a cloak.  How many times had she seen a scene like this in a movie?  A lone woman walking down a nearly deserted street without near enough streetlights.  Fog rolls in, blanketing everything with an air of mystery.  The quiet of the night gets quieter.  Then, the eerie tap, tap, tap of footsteps.  Footsteps that increase thier speed when she picks up hers; footsteps that decrease in speed when she slows.

Just like tonight.

She pulled her spring jacket a little closer and picked up her pace. Two blocks to go, and then she could bolt herself behind her apartment door, turn on all the lights and chase the fear away once more.  The reassuring thought did nothing to calm the eratic pounding of her heart or the raised hairs on her arms. 

She picked up her pace.

The tapping footsteps behind her sped as well.

Swiveling, Collette was sure she'd see who stalked her, who filled her with fear.  But, as before, nothing.

She turned her attention back to getting home.  Not far at all.

A figure loomed in the dark. 

Collette screamed, dodged to the right and ran.

Footsteps followed.

Not one pair, but now she could hear two.  Two distinctive pairs of pounding soles coming closer in the dark night.