Free Don't Bet On It by J. L. Salter

confines of a format so brief and I knew I had to let the scenes play out. As often happens when I’m writing, I had no idea where the story was going, so I just followed my characters.

Acknowledgements
    I am greatly indebted to my publisher, Stephanie Taylor; this is my fifth title released by the wonderful folks at Astraea Press . Delighted to work again with AP Senior Editor Kay Springsteen and to take advantage of the editorial assistance of Traci Pollitt.
    Special thanks to my wife, Denise Williams Salter, for her assistance proofing the galleys.

About the Author
    My published novels (with Astraea Press) are: “Called to Arms Again” (May 2013), “Rescued By That New Guy in Town” (Oct. 2012), and “The Overnighter’s Secrets” (May 2012). Also released through AP is a short novella, “Echo Taps” (June, 2013). Romantic comedy and romantic suspense are among eight completed novel manuscripts.
    I’m co-author of two non-fiction monographs (about librarianship) with a royalty pub-lisher, plus a signed chapter in another book and a signed article in a specialty encyclopedia. I’ve also published articles, book reviews, and over 120 poems; my writing has won nearly 40 awards, including several in national contests. As a newspaper photo-journalist, I published about 150 bylined newspaper articles, and some 100 bylined photos.
    I worked nearly 30 years in the field of librarianship. I’m a decorated veteran of U.S. Air Force (including a remote tour of duty in the Arctic, at Thule AB in N.W. Greenland).
    I’m the married parent of two and grandparent of six.

Also by J.L. Salter
    Chapter One

    Drank way too much punch before I realized it was spiked — right before I passed out Saturday night…
    Coming to in total darkness, my foggy brain ached and my eyes strained. Nothing but the sensation of immense space. Pinched my forearm to rule out a bizarre dream. Ouch! Final recollection before everything went black: exhausted and still desperately thirsty.
    My tentative hands groped enough to establish I was still on the hard plank bench. No telling how long I'd been there — everything hurt when I sat up. Stretched out my arms. "Ow!" Splinter. Yeah, the fund-raising jail with square wooden bars. But why was I still there?
    "Hey!" Ghostly echo. Completely alone in the dark. The Greene County Halloween Festival was obviously long over and the spooky former armory building clearly abandoned.
    As I struggled to my feet, I also realized I'd selected a terrible outfit for a jailbreak: low-cut satin blouse almost covering the bustier which threatened to squash my innards. Plus a tight high-hemmed skirt, patterned hose, and one remaining shoe with a four-inch heel. No telling where the other one was. Yeah, I'd had the terribly original notion to come as a sexy witch — including a pointy hat and hand-made broom. Sure wish I'd worn sneakers and a sweatsuit .
    So, how on earth did I get left behind? And exactly how would I get out?
    "Hello?" I knew it was too tentative, but somehow it seemed yelling into that vast darkness could make me feel even more vulnerable than I already did.
    Dilemma.
    One of the big festival fund-raisers was to lock up attendees until someone donated enough money to bail them out. At first I was steamed to be imprisoned since I'd spent two weeks working on that stinking event. Then I figured at least I was off my feet for a few minutes. Once I sat down exhaustion took over, plus the spiked punch, of course. But that didn't explain why I was still there in the dark with everybody gone… all alone.
    At least I think I'm alone . "Hey! Hello?" Louder. "Anybody here?"
    Silence could be good or bad. But I wished somebody would come turn the lights on and get me out. Plus, I need a restroom. Why did I leave my cell phone locked in the car? Not that there was any point waiting on a rescue. When you wake up behind wooden bars in real life, no