Tara pulled into the parking lot. The lights were on in the office and in the barn.
“Who’s here at this hour?”
Then she saw Bethany’s car. She’d go into the office first to find out who was there, and why the barn lights were on. Tara turned the office doorknob but it was locked. She rattled her keys under the porch light, rolling the office key between her fingers, and twisted it in the lock. The door creaked open. No alarm. Someone either disabled it or never set it. Maybe Georgia was in a hurry and left the lights on, locked the door, and forgot to activate the alarm. Tara shook her head. Georgia would never do that. She could lock up the office blindfolded. And Bethany wasn’t on call. Why would her car be here?
“Bethany,” she called. “It’s Tara. Anybody here?”
Nothing had been moved. The exam rooms were pristine and stocked for the morning. The barn was next.
Tara grabbed the brass ring off the wall hook and headed to the barn. This was certainly a bizarre night. She opened the barn door. Music was playing. She recognized the Bananarama tune. What’s going on here?
The lyrics to Cruel Summer blared. Following the music, she went behind the boxes and into the next room.
Tara stopped breathing. She reached for her cell in her back pocket. It flipped out of her hand and clattered to the white and black mosaic tiled floor, now stained with blood. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the slick phone and dialed 911.
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