บท 3: Chapter 3

Now or never.

As he shot into the hall, Rafe called over his shoulder, “I’ve got a clean shirt in my locker. Won’t be a minute.” He bolted before his boss could open his mouth to protest. But the heavyset man’s footfalls followed him as Rafe ran. Damn it.

He pushed open the door and skidded to a halt in front of his locker. Breathing hard, he spun the combination, jerked on the lock, and flung open the door. From far in the back, he dragged out his shaving kit. Fingers fumbling, he dug into the hidden side pocket and pulled out a syringe of clear liquid—enough for one more injection. He pulled his coffee-drenched shirt over his head, undid his pants to expose his hip, and jabbed the needle in. In an instant, slimy cold seeped through his veins. Shivering, he shoved the empty syringe into the kit, grabbed his clean shirt, and turned around.

Janet stood at the end of the row of lockers, watching him with a troubled look on her face.