Chapter Ten
No one answered, but I wasn’t surprised. The last time I went to the shop, it wasn’t yet out of commission. Now, however, it seemed Becker had vacated in a hurry — had something changed to accelerate his departure?
Desperate, I pounded on the door again, as hard as I could, and shouted Becker’s name. It was faint, but when I stopped knocking, something scraped against the floor inside, as soft as a set of fingernails raking up the leg of a pair of jeans.
“Becker?” I called. “It’s me, Zoe Clarke. If you’re in there, I’d really like to talk to you.”
Another scraping sound scurried out from under the crack at the bottom of the door, and a moment later one of Becker’s wild eyes appeared in the space between it and its frame.
“What’s going on in there? Are you okay?” I asked. T
