In the recess between the rack of garden tools and shelves of insect spray was an emergency door. The shelf of cans blocked the light of their flashlights, making the exit dark and forbidding. She squinted, staring into the black. Something didn’t look right. The shadow bulged and swelled against the rack of tools.
A shovel arced overhead, the spade end targeting the back of Poole's head.
She lunged and tackled him. His gun and the flashlights slid down the aisle. The shovel clanged against floor. The shadow leaped out, crashed into the cans of insect spray, and caused an avalanche.
“What the—?” came Poole's astonished cry.
Stacey groped for the gun, crawling over his body, grabbed it and a flashlight. She rolled to her stomach and aimed the light down the aisle.
The dark figure raced toward the back room, knocking over a display advertising the perfect lawn. Boxes split open and dumped grass seed across the aisle.
She scrambled to her feet and ran after him. Her old leg wound flared up. The pain shot into her hip like someone stabbing her with an ice pick. Bouncing along with a noticeable wobble, she raced toward the back room.
Claws of the Griffin is available from Amazon.