I smiled at her and whispered: (“…did you want play sometime?…”) She sat up abruptly and was quiet. She turned and very quietly said: (“Shal... we start over again at the front door?”) I whispered: (“..oh yes!,…. let‘s do it.”). I picked her up and carried her to the door and set her down, standing. She was panting out of breath, and a little pink in the face. Her hands trembled as she rubbed them together nervously. She stood there and grinned at me. I whispered: (“ get ready to be play. But this helplessness was a hundred times more savage to her frightened mind. How could it be real? How could a man shoot her dead? The tears in her eyes blinded her, making her flight awkward and stumbling, but she reached some trees.Her panic grew as she ran and ran until her lungs were burning and her heart was nearly fluttering. She was a good runner, and routinely did laps at the indoor track at the university. But what the killer probably didn’t know was that Leslie was badly agoraphobic.. More

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