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Not if Abby could stop him. |
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Taking a deep breath, she pushed the button for the elevators. The middle one rumbled in its shaft. She looked up to see the lit numbers track its downward path: 12, 11, 10. Would it stop here? Perhaps Mike was on it. It had started off on his floor. |
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Its descent continued: 9, 8, 7, all the way down to 1, where Abby waited. But the doors did not open. Instead, the elevator continued to the below-ground parking area. |
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Abby pushed the button again, but the other elevators seemed not to be functioning. |
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Mike had been on the elevator. She was certain now; their special bond told her so. He was hurt. She had to get to him. But how? |
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She looked about. There was a door marked Stairs beside the elevator. |
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Quickly Abby entered the stairwell. It was dimly lit and smelled of old cigarettes and stale food. She stood still and listened. Her ears heard no sounds. Neither, now, did her mind. |
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Oh, surely Mike was not badly hurt! But if not, should she not be able to sense his emotions in his time of peril? |
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She descended the narrow concrete stairs quickly, trying to remain quiet. Reaching the bottom, she slowly pushed open the door to the garage floor, then stopped. She would be a target, for the only illumination came from behind her. |
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She heard nothing. Saw nothing. Sensed nothing. |
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