But today, in the deserted third-floor corridor, the sound held an ominous note.
She hesitated at the top of the stairs, refusing to glance behind her, peering down the stairwell itself.
Empty.
She started down, moving quickly, one hand, on the banister. She had made the first turn, and started down the fifteen steps to the second-floor landing, when suddenly she heard another whistle.
Two boys she didn’t recognize stepped into the wide opening provided by the double doors on the landing below. They gazed up at her, smiling mockingly.
Though Judith knew they were no more than seventeen or eighteen, their eyes seemed much older, and they slouched in the doorway with a dark malevolence.
Judith paused as the familiar fear reached out to her once more. Her fingers tightened on the strap of her bag, and she slowly continued her descent.
One of the boys whistled again, while the other let his fingers stroke suggestively at his groin. “Got something for you, pretty teacher,” he said. “Wanta see it?”
Judith said nothing. She came to the bottom of the stairs and took a tentative step toward the next flight.
The larger of the two moved to block her. “Want to have a good time?” he asked, his voice lilting with menace.
Judith’s mind raced. She could scream, but there was no one to hear. And if someone heard her cry, would he rush to help?
Not likely.
She could try to flee back up the stairs, but a display of fear would only spur the boys on, turning what might have been a game into something far worse.
She moved forward again, focusing her mind on the lessons she’d learned last summer, after her first year of teaching here. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, willing her voice to remain steady, “I’d just like to get to my meeting.” There wasn’t a meeting, but at least the boys might think she was expected somewhere.
The second boy reached out to her. “I got something wants to meet you.”
As his hand came close to her, Judith spun around, slipping her bag off her shoulder and swinging it hard. She completed the turn, and the bag slammed into the boy’s head, the weight of the ten rolls of quarters she always carried in its depths lending it enough force to knock the teenager against the wall. As her would-be attacker howled in pain and his friend stared at Judith in open-mouthed surprise, she broke into a run, dashing down the stairs, grabbing at the banister to steady herself
“Get her!” she heard one of them shout as she came to the first-floor landing. Footsteps pounded in the stairwell. She ran into the corridor, turning left toward the side door that led to the faculty parking lot. By the time she reached the door she could hear her pursuers racing down the hall after her. She burst out the doors, praying that someone—anyone—would still be around.
There were a few cars in the lot, but no one in sight.
She stumbled down the steps, fumbling in the bag for her keys, then made a dash for her car She jammed the key into the lock just as her assailants exploded from the building, twisted at it frantically, then managed to pull the door open. Scrambling inside, she jerked the door closed and pushed down on the lock just as the boys reached the car.
As she put the key in the ignition, the boys began rocking the car—a tiny Honda Civic she’d had for five years.
The ignition ground for a moment, then caught, and she stamped hard on the accelerator, racing the engine.
The boys were laughing now, and the car was rocking wildly. Saying nothing at all, Judith put the car in gear and released the brake. The Honda shot forward and her attackers jumped back. Judith turned sharply, heading for the parking lot gate, and suddenly the boys were running to another car, a low-slung Chevy painted a brilliant candy-apple red. As Judith pulled out of the parking lot and turned left toward the freeway a mile west, the Chevy fell in beside her.
They were going to follow her home!
Thinking quickly, Judith made a quick right turn, drove two blocks, then made a left, and another right.
The red Chevy stayed behind her, so close she was certain they were going to hit her. But then, as she made one more turn, her tormentors must have realized where she was going.
A block ahead was the low-slung building of the precinct station, a few patrol