| OCR Text |
Show 195 we got is right there." The man stood, his face narrowing in intensity, leveling his' terrible gaze down at Mr. Richards. At that moment, the main door opened. The door's swish-normally not audible from back here-the man glanced down the aisle, and jumped behind the refrigerator; squeezing into the small space between it and the safe. The gun, trembling violently, remained pointed at Mr. Richards. The man fiercely nodded his head toward the front of the store. With the others, Sharon turned away. It was a customer. An elderly woman in a long coat, wearing a maroon bandana over her hair and carrying a white shopping bag. She stood just inside the door, glancing around, and then walked purposefully to the cosmetics counter. Sharon started to go to her, to take a step, when he hissed: "Don't move." She froze-every muscle in her body tensing. But the old woman had not heard the hissing whisper, she did not turn her head. She continued to look through the displays, slowly circling one. A low weak whimpering began. A half-moaning, half-groaning sound-it was coming from Steve. Suddenly Sharon wanted to whimper too. "Shut up!" the man hissed fiercely. It stopped. The woman looked up from the display case, and spotted the pharmacist. She started down the aisle. The back of the pharmacist's shirt |
