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.
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