Snarkometer reaches the speed limit #55
"Put the gun down, Wayne." Liz Weeks' voice remained calm, with no hint of the icy terror gripping her heart.
"Don't tell me what to do, you bitch." In contrast to Liz's composure, Wayne Hennessey's voice shook with rage. The pistol in his hand wobbled uncertainly.
Liz had never seen this Wayne before. His usual pristine appearance was askew: face unshaven, hair mussed, tie undone. The smell of liquor clung to him like cheap perfume and provoked a sudden memory of her father. Just the thought of her nightmare childhood made drops of cold sweat run down her chest and pool beneath her bra.
She tightened her hands into fists, not wanting Wayne to see them tremble. It was a good thing she'd been sitting behind the desk when he'd burst into her office. If she'd been standing, her legs would have buckled when she saw his gun.
"You don't want to hurt me, Wayne."
He laughed and his handsome face twisted into an ugly grimace. "You're right. I don't want to hurt you. I want to kill you."
She inhaled a sharp breath, her throat tightening. There was nowhere to run. He'd shoot her before she could take two steps. She stared into the business end of his gun and waited in frozen disbelief for the bullet that would end her life.
A movement out of the corner of her eye caught Liz's attention. She shifted her gaze to the doorway where Sharon stood, white-faced. The secretary's mouth hung open and her eyes were glazed with panic.
The thought of Sharon's three small children roused Liz from her paralysis. She gave a minute shake of her head as a warning to the other woman not to intrude.
Seeing the tiny motion, Wayne turned.
Yup, this'll do it. I'll read on. I'll turn off the phone and the email and sit back to find out what happens. There's some tightening up like taking out "She inhaled a sharp breath", but this is good as it stands.