Some driving instinct told him to get out, to escape quickly. The other part of him, the part that made him a damn good journalist, begged him to push forward. Indecisive, he listened as the silence mocked him. His stomach roiled in knots and the chill of the fall weather crawled down his spine, sending a shiver through his body. The small living room seemed to magnify in size and every step he knew he must take was a journey in itself.
He was never one to let anything scare him from getting a story, let alone sounds of an empty home. He drew his gun, once again, relishing in the weight of it, solid in his hands. He gripped it tightly, pointing the barrel toward the ground.
“Lorraine, is that you?”
He wondered if he’d be able to hear anyone pull up on the gravel drive. Backing up to the front window, he peered out at his car sitting solitary in the drive. It began drizzling as he looked out the window and the same ominous feeling overcame him, taking his instincts into overdrive. An overwhelming sense of dread formed in the pit of his stomach.
He had never been so directed by his feelings before. Franco didn’t know if this were just his nerves wearing thin after years of work or if something else were happening. He struggled to ignore his fear as he walked softly through the home once more, carefully checking the room and the shadows that stretched out from the walls, hiding corners. He found nothing. Franco stood sedentary in the center of the living room once more when a loud crash came from the kitchen.
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and to pre-order The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly of Sales and Marketing as well!