When someone dies mysteriously during a Psych experiment, Rhiannon becomes enmeshed in a conspiracy that includes both the survivors and the killer.
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Short on cash, Rhiannon...
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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
SKINNER'S BOX
( — a box used in experiments in animal learning, especially in operant conditioning, equipped with a mechanism that automatically gives the animal food or other reward or permits escape, as by opening a door. )
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RHIANNON AND ROWAN EXCHANGE A PANICKED LOOK.
They're frozen into place, staring at each other, with Rhiannon still holding the pen, and that takes so much of whatever time they had to run out of the office that Natalia orders them to stay hidden and closes the door. Her dark ponytail dances behind her as she bolts out, running towards the stairs, and silence returns.
Steps echo outside. Even though they're distant, it doesn't give them a lot of space or opportunity to run out of the office, so Rowan takes her hand and drags her towards the desk, pulling her down. The gap between the drawers on both sides is so small it can barely fit the two of them, tall and lanky, and they're uncomfortably pressed together. Luckily, the back wall of the desk fully shields them from the sight of whoever comes in through that door.
It's only then that Rhiannon notices two things. First of all, Rowan still hasn't dropped her hand, and she's slouching so that her legs can fit, so her head could easily be resting on his shoulder. Second of all—and most importantly—she's still holding the pen. The case is empty.
Noticing her shallow breathing only comes after Rowan pulls her back by an arm. She raises the pen, in a silent attempt of telling him exactly why they're screwed, and his face instantly grows pale, the grip on her arm tightening ever so slightly. When he eases the pressure, she sighs, and her head lolls back until it falls on his shoulder.
The office door creaks open, and Rhiannon attempts to find some stability in the limited space she's confined to. His hand finds hers again, resting on her stomach, and she inhales, trying to keep as much oxygen in her lungs as possible if they realize they'll have to run for their lives. A cough, then some steps.
Rhiannon risks a peek through the minimal gap between the drawers and the back of the desk. From this angle, with so many things obscuring her vision, she can't see who it is; all she finds is a pair of Converse sneakers and a pair of lean legs that could belong to virtually anyone.
She squeezes the pen tighter, so hard it would probably cause some sort of interference or strident sounds on the other side of the bug. If there's anyone listening, they must have gone deaf by now. As she does so, she can only pray the third person in the office won't notice the missing pen.
