Their pursuer hadn’t found Jess, and he was focused in on Will’s hiding place. Taking a deep but silent breath, Will shifted his foot against the wall, adjusting his leverage and easing the strain on his hamstrings. He could sense rather than see the turn of the knob. God, I’m ready, but if I don’t have to fight, I don’t want to. Hinges squeaked. Feet shuffled. Light flashed directly below him. Will didn’t move, keeping his hands pressed against the front wall, his feet against the back. High above the door frame, he hovered, absolutely still. The beam swept from side to side three times, and a mop of shaggy brown hair leaned into the narrow space, its owner surveying the shelves and empty floor. “Where’d he go?” the man mumbled, backing away slowly. Then, with a loud curse, he raced out of the room and stomped down the hall, his footfalls growing quieter, his swearing louder.
