Paranormal Erotica. Elizabeth Coldwell
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knock. No, a rattle. And it wasn’t coming from the door, it was coming from the kitchen, from the kitchen cupboard, the one under the sink where she kept the garbage can. She’d put a child lock on the door when her cat started getting into the trash, and it looked like Freddy had somehow wormed his way inside and now couldn’t get out. Laura May had never figured out how he managed that, but it was a common occurrence.
As the kitchen cupboard bopped, Laura May pressed down on the latch, releasing the spring. The small plastic garbage can toppled over and the chocolate man fell out, packaging and all. There was nothing else in the trash, just him, and it seemed strange that Freddy should have snuck into the cupboard without the draw of meat. She waited, but Freddy never emerged.
It suddenly occurred to Laura May that, when she’d awoken to the sound of knocking, Freddy had been sprawled across her legs. When she’d sat up on the couch, he’d jumped to the arm and, as far as she knew, that’s where he’d stayed.
So, if the cat wasn’t making those rapping sounds in her cupboard … what was?
Laura May picked up the chocolate man and set him on the counter, then plugged in the kettle for tea. While she waited for the water to boil, she sat on one of her padded kitchen chairs. Her eyelids drooped, and she thought she’d put her head down for a second, just for a second …
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