No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

But he didn’t. He kept walking, completing a full circle
around the van, and came up to the driver door. Grabbed the
handle. Darby heard the door screech on bad hinges, and the
vehicle sank on its suspension as a third human body lurched
inside. The jingle of car keys on his red lanyard.
With one eye uncovered, careful not to disturb the glass
bottles underneath her, Darby glanced over at Jay inside her
dog kennel and raised one trembling index finger to her lips:
Shhh.
Jay nodded.
In the driver’s seat, Lars sniffled, leaned forward, and
clicked a key into the ignition — but he didn’t turn it. Darby
heard a long, thoughtful pull of breath. Then silence. Too
much silence.
Something is wrong.
She waited, her eardrums ringing with building pressure.
Gut muscles clenched. A breath held in swollen lungs. Rodent
Face was a dark form at the wheel, separated by a caged
divider and silhouetted against the opaque snow on the
windshield. With her one uncovered eye, Darby could see that
his head was turned sideways. He was looking up, and to his
right. At the Astro’s dome light.
The dome light she’d switched off.
Oh, no.
She could imagine the thoughts inching through his brain.
He was wondering why the light bulb didn’t click on
automatically when he opened the driver door, as it usually
did. Now, what did that suggest? That someone else had
entered his van. That, upon closer examination of the mixed
footprints outside, someone was still inside his van, buried in
the back under a musty Navajo rug, sweating and trembling
with nerve-shredding panic—
Lars twisted the key.