The place was big and built sturdy enough that the sounds from the first floor didn’t drift up to his bedroom. Neither did the sound of the expensive foreign car I knew he drove leaving the garage. Since he’d said he had to go to work and Tom had often complained that Jayson usually arrived to the office before the others who arrived at eight, I knew he must have gone. I lay in the bed for awhile, assailed by guilt brought on by his tender departure. Contrarily, I tried to think of friends I could have rescue me, but I couldn’t think of one I’d trust with this. Over the past years, everyone had become “our” friends. I didn’t have a single girlfriend I could call—part of the peril of working at home. I didn’t get a lot of interaction anymore. So…I was on my own. After about an hour of debating, from who to call to actually staying here, I finally got out of the bed. First things first, I went to the window overlooking the driveway. The last thing I wanted was for Jayson to have been wise to my plan and be lurking downstairs.
