Free Rollover by Susan Slater

deadbolt with his right hand, then throwing the door open, he hit the squatting stance of a trained killer…well, that was probably overstatement, but he held the gun in front of his body, arms locked, right hand steadying the left. And he was too late.
    The glimpse he got of the slight body throwing itself over the railing three-quarters of the way down the stairs, stumbling, then jerking upright only to duck back beneath the stairs was only that, a glimpse. And the footsteps quickly became muted as the person left the walkway and struck out across grass.
    â€œStop.”
    Worth a try, but like yelling at the wind. He heard the rev of an engine—motorcycle—the angry whine of a sewing machine, some kid’s crotch-rocket. Not far away but out of sight. He’d seen another one of those confounded alleyways, in this case a thoroughfare, when he’d put Simon in the car. The person was probably halfway to Railroad Avenue by now—if he’d had a bike close by, he was long gone.
    â€œDan? What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Elaine was standing by the corner of the bed pulling her robe on.
    â€œKids, I think. Maybe those vandals the landlady warned us about—I need to check the car. It’s okay. I’ll be right back up.” He kept the .38 out of sight and watched as she slipped back out of her robe and got into bed. Then he leaned down and picked up the piece of paper.
    He waited until he got to the SUV, had quieted Simon, scooted behind the wheel, and flipped on the interior lights before taking a look at the paper he held in his hand.
    GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN
IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK
    All capital letters cut from newsprint or magazines on common white computer printer paper. Amateurish. But made to look that way? Maybe. Would there be fingerprints? Unlikely. Would he show it to Sheriff Howard? Uncertain. He reread the message. “It’s not what you think.” What wasn’t? If it wasn’t what he thought, that would seem to indicate that he actually had made some decision or thought he knew something. But for the life of him, he had no idea what the note referred to. And who knew what he thought anyway? The single line was starting to play and replay in his head. And his head was beginning to throb.
    He let Simon out and watched as he watered off a few tree trunks before they both headed back up the stairs. Simon moved toward the bed but Dan signaled, “No.” Dogs could sleep on the floor. He smoothed the paper and propped it against a glass on the table. Ominous message and it didn’t make one bit of sense…other than the “get out” part. That sent a shiver across his shoulders.
    Dan leaned back in the chair, balancing on its two legs and leaning against the counter. Sometimes Dan found himself stopping whatever he’d been doing to reflect…like now as he watched Elaine sleep and heard the snuffly snores of Simon at the foot of the bed. He smiled, enjoying a moment of true contentment. But it was fleeting. He brought the chair back down to fully rest all four legs on the floor. One minute peace, another uneasiness.
    So, what was wrong? It was nothing he could put a finger on…just a vague anxiousness. Everything seemed to be a big thing. Consequences that would never have occurred to him before, now seemed uppermost. The “might happen” became the “probably would happen.” Dan sighed. The simple truth was he’d found out he was mortal. “It” could happen. Death. Or life-altering injury and he had no right to burden another human being with his baggage. He loved Elaine. He loved her smile, her touch…he never wanted to lose her. He might admit to one or two thoughts of marriage…maybe. They’d only known each other four months but the feeling was there.
    Yet, she’d had far too much sadness in her life to be saddled with another emotional cripple…or worse. Because he