by the fast clomp of footsteps. Someone was running this way, and in the next moment she felt the weight of her attacker’s knee lifted from her. Gasping for breath, she spun away and, scrambling across the gritty floor, she ducked under a staff writer’s desk. Cowering in the knee-space, she listened as a scuffle ensued. She wished she had her phone, but her purse was still on Barb’s desk. And she wondered about her rescuer. Who was he? And how could she help him?
As she felt around the top of the desk, hoping for a paperweight or something to use as a weapon, she heard the sounds of running footsteps and spied both men racing toward the back of the building, followed by the slamming of the back door—then silence.
Still shaking from head to toe, she could barely think straight. What had just happened? And why? As she hurried up front to get her purse and phone, she begged God to help whoever it was that had suddenly jumped into the fray. She’d just reached the front of the building when she heard footsteps in the rear—running toward her.
“Hello?” a male voice yelled. “Where are you?”
Megan was afraid to answer as she ducked behind Barb’s big reception desk, wishing she’d grabbed her phone. Who was it? The man who wanted to slit her throat? Or the one who’d chased him away? Or could it be someone else? Someone connected to her attacker? Hadn’t he texted someone, a cohort perhaps?
“Megan?” the man yelled from the center of the building. “Are you okay?”
Still feeling shocked and confused, Megan tried to think. Who was calling for her by name?
“It’s Garret Larsson,” the voice declared. “Are you still here, Megan?”
She barely poked her head above the desk, peeking over the edge to be certain it was Garret. “It’s you!” She stood in relief, trying to control her shaking knees.
“Are you okay?” Garret hurried toward her.
“Yeah, I guess, just shaken.” She brushed the dust from the front of her shirt and pants as she looked at him. “What happened?”
“That’s what I want to know.” He took her hand, leading her to a chair by the front door, helping her to sit down.
“What happened to that—that guy?” She heard the tremor in her voice.
“I chased him, nearly caught him.” He paused for a breath. “But I lost him after a couple blocks. I just called 911. Police are on their way.” He sat next to her, looking intently into her face. “What happened? Tell me.”
She took in a steadying breath, trying to appear calm, but knowing that she was close to breaking. “I heard someone in here. I thought it was Arthur. He cleans the press at night sometimes. I went to see.” She shuddered. “And then this—this guy jumped me, pinned me down. He—he had a knife.” She felt herself shaking uncontrollably as she remembered that feeling of total helplessness.
“You’re probably in shock.” Garret removed his fleece jacket, slipping it over her shoulders. “Just take some slow, deep breaths.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, comforted by the warmth and his words. And taking his advice, she breathed slowly and deeply, reminding herself she was a strong woman. “It all happened so fast. So frightening. I just don’t understand. Why did he want to kill me?”
“I don’t know.” Garret shook his head with a serious expression.
She studied him more closely now. In the bright light of the office, she could see that his dark brown hair was wavy and long enough to curl around his ears. And his eyes, a rich shade of teal-blue, looked very concerned.
“I’m so thankful you came when you did.” She shuddered to think what might’ve happened if he hadn’t shown up right then. “What made you come back here?”
“A friend mentioned seeing the back door open. It didn’t sound right to me. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Th-thank you.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “I—I don’t know what I’d have done if you—if you—” It felt like the dam had broken as she crumbled into sobs.
Garret slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders, holding her closer. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “You have the right to cry. You’ve been through a lot.”
She leaned into him, letting her emotions and tears flow freely, until she finally started to feel self-conscious. As always, she wanted to be strong, in control. She was Rory McCallister’s daughter, after all. Sitting up straighter, she squared her shoulders. “It’s just that—well, first Dad is gone. And then this happens. It’s all so shocking.” She wiped her wet cheeks with the backs of her hands. “So frightening. I feel so confused.”
He was still looking intently into her eyes. “That’s not surprising. You’ve been through quite an ordeal. And you could’ve been killed.”
Her hand went to her throat as she remembered that moment when she expected to die. “I was so scared. I’ve never been that scared before. I still don’t know why he wanted to kill me. I even offered him money to let me go.”
“Really?” Garret frowned. “And he wasn’t interested?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Isn’t that odd? Most criminals are looking for cash.” She took in another deep breath, hearing the sounds of sirens approaching. “How’d he get in?”
“Looks like he used a crowbar to jimmy the back door.”
He nodded toward the front windows, where red and blue lights were flashing outside. “The police are here.” With his arm still around her shoulders, he helped her stand, guiding her toward the front door.
By the time they got outside, a couple of police cruisers were double parking and to her relief, Lieutenant Michael Conrad was getting out of the first one. Although he was a few years younger than her dad, the two men had been good friends for as long as Megan could remember. Lieutenant Conrad was a good guy.
“Megan McCallister,” he exclaimed as he approached the building. “Is that really you?”
Megan confirmed this as they shook hands, then Garret quickly explained about the criminal getting away and the route he may have taken.
“The dispatcher already sent someone that way,” Lieutenant Conrad told him. “So you interrupted a robbery in process?” he asked Megan.
“I thought that was it,” she told him, “but when I offered him money to let me go, he didn’t seem interested.”
“He threatened her life,” Garret said solemnly.
Megan explained about the knife and how Garret had arrived just in time. But because a curious crowd was gathering, Lieutenant Conrad urged them to go back inside.
“The perpetrator broke in through the back door,” Garret explained as they went inside. Lieutenant Conrad paused, calling out to the other officers to check out the back of the building.
“Did you get a look at his face?” he asked her as they entered the building. “Can you identify him?”
“He was Caucasian, looked like he was in his twenties. Bad complexion.
