That sound, that invasive sound, snapped Kelly from fear to anger. It sounded like it came from just behind the door - in her hallway.
Kelly set down the receiver. There was no dial tone anyway.
From her camping gear she retrieved the baseball bat. It wasn't as surefire as as a gun in this situation, but she still couldn't legally carry a firearm. Not since Josh had forced her to make that life-changing decision their sophomore year of college.
But still, when camping, a girl's gotta have her defenses.
The peephole showed no one on the other side of the door. They could be just out of sight, though, hovering near the corner of the hall.
Kelly gripped the bat tighter in a swinger's stance, wishing she'd kept up with her softball league. Comfort came from knowing she still had a crackerjack aim.
Outside, a car horn honked followed by the screech of tires. Kelly jumped, bonking the back of her head with the bat. "F," she breathed her substitute curse word.
She didn't want to be distracted from her visitor in the hall, but something told her she should check out the car horn. Kelly walked backwards to the window overlooking the street. Two stories down she saw what had caused the commotion.
The female driver of a red sedan stood behind her open door, shouting at someone in the busy street. That someone, a young man in a miliaristic jacket, held out placating hands to the driver. Then he looked up. Looked right at Kelly.
His face went from reassuring to alarmed. In the next second he ran through oncoming traffic and out of sight. What interested Kelly more was the woman who chased after him.
She looked a lot like Fiona. Kelly's dead best friend.