AHEAD of you.” “Oh, thank God. I need help. Will you help me?” “Of course I will. Come. Follow me.” She could not see him, but, as always, she sensed his presence. She followed, and with his lead, they moved quickly. In no time at all they reached his studio, turning left off the tunnel. She smelled the paint, the turpentine, mixed with the dust. Now could she hide? Would her pursuer pass right by the doorway and lose her? “Mr. Sable?” she whispered. He’d know what to do. “Mr. Sable!” He was gone. She was alone again. Why had he left her? Without thinking, she swung around. Her hand slammed against an easel, knocking it sideways. Wooden boards crashed to the floor, causing what was probably a pile of paintings to slide and tumble down at the same time. She couldn’t have made more noise if she had tried. Despair gripped her. She tried to swallow her sobs as she slid down the wall behind her and crumpled to the floor. “LaDonna?” He called her name. He knew her. The whisper, low and hoarse, sounded familiar, but she didn’t recognize it.
