Of course, the next thing I knew, Derek was sound asleep. Jet lag had hit him hard. I dragged him off to bed where he continued to sleep like a dead man.
It was five o’clock in the morning when the pounding began.
“What the hell is that?” Derek muttered.
“I don’t know,” I said, sounding whiny as I punched my pillow. Were they cleaning the streets? The pounding continued, so I finally tossed the covers back, sat up, and mumbled, “I hope it’s not the little kids that just moved in down the hall. That won’t make for good neighborly relations. I’d better go find out.”
I grabbed my short robe and threw it on, then stood on wobbly legs as the pounding grew louder. It wasn’t coming from outside, I realized. There was someone knocking at my front door.
Then I heard the screaming.
Derek jumped out of bed. “Stay here.”
Ignoring his command, I raced after him down the hall, through the living room and out to the workshop. I skidded to a halt behind him as he threw the door open.
It was Robin and she continued to scream as tears rolled down her cheeks. She was covered in blood.