The Present
Claire was afraid of the dark.
It was dark now—and something had just thudded downstairs.
She stood absolutely still in the bedroom that was above her bookstore. Claire sold old and rare books and manuscripts, as well as the occasional used but rare tome, and because of the quarter of a million dollar inventory she kept downstairs, she had a state of the art security system, a Taser and a gun. She knew she hadn't left a window open, as it was sweltering in the city in July, and she would never leave a window open anyway. It was too dangerous. Crime was out of control in the city. Last month, her neighbor, a wannabe model, had been murdered, and although the police weren't saying so, she suspected it had been a pleasure crime. She strained to hear, debating getting her Beretta from her bedside drawer.
But she heard nothing now.As she stood there, clad in a pair of cotton candy striped boxers and a thin ribbed tank top, her bedroom ...
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