The smoke from the cigarette she was holding in the corner of her mouth was curling upwards into her eyes and making them tear. Her hands were handcuf...ed behind her, and she didn’t know what to do with the burning cigarette, spit it from between her lips and mash it out on the floor? That would only piss the cops off. The cop, the one who had just asked her how she was doing, was busy staring into the rear view mirror. What was he doing? He was trying to see into the crack between the parted. I glanced back over my shoulder, making sure she wasn't standing at thetop of the stairs. That was how these things always work; it was kindof like those Wes Craven movies where you think the hero's finally safeand then the monster appears out of nowhere to rip his face off with arusting garden hoe or something. They always get you when you're notlooking. Fortunately, there was nothing lurking on the first floorlanding, so I continued down the corridor, glancing into the livingroom as I slipped. More

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