Guilty as Sin [antikvár]

PROLOGUE Time to die, birthday bitch." Birthday. Thirty-six. The birthday Ellen had been dreading. Suddenly thirty-six seemed far too young. She flung herself up the stairs, stumbling as one heel caught an edge. She grabbed for the handrail, her fingers scraping the rough plaster of the wall, breaking a nail, skinning her knuckles. The stairwell was barely lit, drawing in the ragged edges of illumination that fell from the lights in the halls above and below. Security lights. They offered nothing in the way of security. In the back of her mind she heard a low, smoky voice, "Tour boss needs to have a word with someone about security. This is a hiLshly volatile case. Anything mi^ht happen." She reached the third floor and turned down the hall, heading east. If she could make it down the east stairs— If she could make it to the walkway between the buildings— He wouldn't dare try to take her in the walkway with the sheriffs department mere feet away. "We've got you now, bitch!" There were telephones in the offices she ran past. The offices were locked. Her self-appointed assassin was jogging behind her, laughing. The sound went through her like a spear, like the sure knowledge that he would kill her. Pursuit may not have been his plan, but it had become a part of the game. The game. The insanity of it was as terrifying as the prospect of death. Beat the system. Wreck lives. End lives. Nothing personal. Just a game. She ran past Judge Grabko's courtroom and ducked around the corner that led back toward the southeast stairwell. Scaffolding filled the