Dead Man's Footsteps

Melbourne and, despite having done little exercise in the past couple of months, she was still in reasonable shape.
    She ran flat out without looking back, across the tarmac parking area of Southern Deposit Security, past the vans and trucks, out through the gates and up the hill. Then, just before she turned right through the shrubbery lining the car park by the row of stores, she shot a glance over her shoulder.
    Ricky had not appeared yet.
    She trampled through the bushes, only to narrowly avoid being struck by a people carrier driven by a harassed-looking woman as she dashed across the lanes of the car park towards the front entrance of an MFI store. She stopped when she reached it and looked back.
    Still no sign of him.
    She entered the building, briefly aware of the distinct, rich smell of new furniture, and raced through it, dodging around customers as she passed showroom displays of office furniture, living-room furniture, bedroom furniture. She found herself, almost at the rear of the store, in the bathroom section. There were showers all around her. A classy looking walk-in one to her right.
    She looked back down the aisle. No Ricky.
    Her heart was crashing around as if it had broken loose inside her chest. She was still holding the plastic Southern Deposit Security identity tag in her hand. Ricky had not allowed her to take her handbag with her from the flat, but she had managed to conceal her mobile phone, by stuffing it down her front, with some cash and her credit card, as well as a key to her mother’s flat. She’d switched the phone off just in case, by a billion to one chance, it rang. Now she retrieved it and switched it back on. As soon as it powered up, she rang her mother’s number.
    No answer. She had begged her mother for months to get voicemail, but she still had not done anything about it. After numerous rings, the tone turned to a flat whine. She tried again.
    There was a slatted wooden bench in one of the walkin showers, flipped up against the wall. She went into it, pulled the bench down and sat holding the phone to her ear, listening to the unanswered ringing. Thinking. Thinking.
    She was in total panic.
    All her stalling tactics were now exhausted. She had not thought this through. She wasn’t capable of thinking anything through at the moment. All she could do was run on autopilot, dealing with one minute at a time.
    Ricky had threatened to harm her mother. A sick, elderly lady. Her bargaining power was that she still had in her possession the riches Ricky desperately wanted. She needed to keep reminding herself that she held all the nuts.
    Ricky could bluster all he wanted.
    I hold everything he wants .
    Except…
    She sank her face into her hands. She wasn’t dealing with someone normal. Ricky was more like a machine.
    The voice almost made her jump out of her skin.
    ‘Are you OK? Can I help you, madam?’
    A young assistant in a suit and tie, with a lapel badge giving his name as Jason, was standing at the entrance to the shower. She looked up at him.
    ‘I – I…’
    He had a kind face and suddenly she felt close to tears. Thinking rapidly, a half-formed plan vaguely taking shape, sounding as weak as she could, she said, ‘I don’t feel very well. Is it possible someone could call me a taxi?’
    ‘Yeah, of course.’ He looked at her in concern. ‘Would you rather an ambulance?’
    She shook her head. ‘No, a taxi, thanks. I’ll be fine when I get home. I just need to lie down.’
    ‘We have a staff rest area,’ he said in a sympathetic voice. ‘Would you like to go there and wait?’
    ‘Yes, thank you. Thank you very much.’
    Glancing around warily for any sight of Ricky, she followed him through a side door and into a tiny canteen, where there was a row of chairs against the wall with a low table in front of them, some tea- and coffee-making equipment, a small fridge and a biscuit tin.
    ‘Would you like anything?’ he asked. ‘Some water?’
    ‘Water,’ she said, nodding her head.
    ‘I’ll phone a taxi, then I’ll get you some water.’
    ‘Do you have a side entrance it could come to? I – I’m not sure I could make it all the way back through the store.’
    He pointed at a door she hadn’t noticed, which had an illuminated fire exit sign above it.
    ‘Staff entrance,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell it to come there.’
    ‘You’re very kind.’
    Ten minutes later, Jason came to tell her the taxi was outside. She drained the last of her water, then,