Miss No One, Mark Ayre [romantic love story reading .TXT] 📗

She paused before stepping through. Still, she could hear the footsteps above. Faint now. It was unlikely the figure would hear Abbie because the figure wasn’t straining to hear anyone. She should have been, but the way she had acted since scaling the fence told Abbie she was not.

Abbie stepped through the door onto the small square of carpet that preceded the bottom step. Keeping three fingers on the door, she eased it closed. No sound.

No light, either. The wall here wasn’t glass, nor was the door. Moonlight had spilt onto the bottom floor, lighting the way, but other than the glow which crept beneath the door Abbie had just passed, there was nothing here to guide her.

For several seconds, Abbie allowed her eyes to adjust to the dark. While holding the bottom door open, she had noted the way ahead. Ten to twelve steps, straight up, leading to another wooden door devoid of glass. Meaning no one would see her rise, even if they came to the top door's other side. Unless they decided to open it.

That was possible but unlikely. Anyway, it wouldn’t matter. Abbie would hear approaching footsteps. She’d have time to prepare and the element of surprise. The figure would have the high ground if they opened the door. But, so long as Abbie made it to the top step before that happened, she could grab and hurl the door opener down the stairs. Probably before they had time to register Abbie’s presence.

Abbie hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She would rather cast a stranger down a flight of stairs then risk a bullet or knife to the face but didn’t fancy either scenario. Better to take the stairs as fast as she could, and hope she reached and passed the higher door before the figure finished whatever she was doing above and made her way back.

With soft but quick feet, Abbie rose. One hand on the wall, the other leading the way, she counted ten steps, then stopped. Now she extended her hand as far as it would go until the tip of her middle finger brushed the wood of the door she sought.

She took another step, folding her arm as she went, keeping her finger on the door. Then another. The final step led right into the door. She would have to move up and step into the corridor with the same swing of her leg.

By this point, Abbie could no longer hear footsteps. Her quarry had either stopped moving or was far enough away and behind enough doors that the sound of her feet traipsing around the upper floor could no longer reach Abbie.

Some combination of the two was most likely. Abbie didn’t believe this floor would be as open-plan as the one below. She expected at least an employee bathroom and a couple of offices. Possibly a canteen as well. After all, even salespeople had to eat.

Why was the figure here? Not an employee who had forgotten something in the staff room. Even if she didn’t have a key, what was important enough to warrant breaking into your place of employment at one-thirty in the morning, but not so important you hadn’t noticed its absence earlier in the evening?

No, the woman didn’t work here. But she was looking for something. Probably something in one of the offices which would put a door betweent her and where Abbie was about to come out. She would not see Abbie enter the upstairs landing.

Balance of probability. It was better to work on certainty. Sometimes, that wasn’t possible.

Abbie stepped up, pushed the door, and entered the upper floor.

Where she was greeted with nothing and no one. Where she found herself facing exactly what she had expected. A small open area leading into a corridor, with two doors off either side and one door at the end. There was also a water cooler, right beside her. Abbie was thirsty but didn’t take a cup, nor pour herself a drink.

That could wait.

The door at the end of the corridor was ajar. Only slightly. Just enough to be noticeable. The other four were closed. When the workers left the dealership for the day, they'd have shut every door behind them. That was what people did. The reason to do so was to help contain a fire if one started in any particular room, but most people didn't know this. They wouldn't have been able to tell you why they closed all the doors when they left a building. They might not even have been aware they were doing it.

But people did, which meant Abbie’s new friend was in the furthermost room.

With silent steps, Abbie made her way up the hall. She glanced at each of the closed doors as she passed, listened briefly for anyone moving behind them. No one. And none burst open once she'd walked by.

When Abbie passed the third and fourth door, she heard something and stopped. A low sound. It took a few seconds to place.

Breathing.

But not the natural inhaling and exhaling you might expect from a person going about their usual business. Nor was this the breathing of someone caught in a state of nervous excitement. The breaths were hitched and sharp. They signalled whoever was drawing them in, puffing them out, had lost control.

These were the shallow breaths of a person slipping into the clutches of panic.

That was interesting. Unexpected. It made Abbie pause, but not for long. Two seconds and she was moving again.

The final door opened inwards. The handle was on the left, the breathing came from the right. The crack left by the ajar door revealed to Abbie a mostly blank space to the room's left. A window set into the wall would look over the front of the lot, where Abbie and the figure had so recently broken in.

Reaching forward, Abbie took the handle.

The rhythm of the breathing didn't change, and the breather wasn't moving. Which indicated the figure had no idea what to do next. The fact that