Her hand goes to her pocket, but the phone is in her purse, and the purse is on the coffee table in the living room. She can’t call for help, which means her only remaining option is to get out of the house. So, she tiptoes down the hallway towards the staircase. She can hear the music still playing downstairs, and she’s just about to step out onto the landing when the sound of heavy footsteps suddenly comes from the stairs.
Lily spins around and runs down the hallway, passing the bathroom and wrenching the next door open, jumps inside and closes the door. She tries not to slam it, but it still gives off a noise, which in Lily’s ears sounds like the firing of a gun. She turns, heart in her throat, to see a dim bedroom with a huge double bed and a flat-screen on the wall. There are only two hiding places: the bed or the closet.
Lily drops down on the floor and crawls under the bed. She turns so she can see the door, breathing rapidly through her mouth.
He didn’t hear it … he didn’t hear it …
She listens for footsteps, but can’t hear anything but her own pulse.
Then, suddenly, the door is opened and Lily almost screams, cramping her throat shut to keep in the noise.
A stream of light falls in from the hallway, and two large, black boots steps in through the doorway. A click, and the lights come on in the room.
Lily stops breathing completely, her pulse pounding behind her eyes, making her vision blurry with fear.
The killer walks around the bed, his steps painfully slow, almost casual. Lily follows the boots with her eyes, but is too afraid to turn her head even an inch.
The killer seems to be gazing out the window for a moment or two, then he walks back around the bed, but instead of leaving the room, he goes to the closet and opens both doors. The hangers rattle as he pushes them aside. Seemingly finding nothing of interest, he shuts the doors again with a scuff.
Then, Lily hears him give off another sound, as he sniffs twice.
He can smell my perfume …
The thought sends icy lightning down her spine.