A lame one.”
Lydia had to laugh. “Have a good weekend.”
“You, too.” Candy went over to the door. Pausing, she glanced back. “Listen, if he asks you out, say yes.”
“Peter?” Lydia recoiled. “Never—”
“Our new groundskeeper.” In a lower voice, the woman said, “The truth is, no one wants to be me, and you already have way too much in common with my life at a way younger age than I was when I took my foot off the gas and put it on the brakes. Say yes, Lydia. You won’t regret it.”
Before there could be any argument—or more HR tossed into a heck-no—Candy beat feet out the door and shut things tight.
Under normal circumstances, and for obvious reasons, Lydia would have followed up on the conversation all the way out to the parking lot. But after a night spent in her car, and Peter’s crap, and the reality that Candy could talk circles around God himself, a decision to bail seemed pretty close to a survival reflex.
Doubling back, Lydia went down to the executive director’s office and sat behind the desk. Signing into his computer, she loaded her email onto his browser, opened Candy’s label missive, and got the file front and center. In the printing room, she set up the Averys in the Xerox machine, and then back again at Peter’s desk, she hit the go button.
Out across the hall, the soft clicking and shuffling as the printer went to work was a peaceful, industrious sound, and she used it for background music as she began an infiltration into Peter Wynne’s computer. Even though she had asked for privacy earlier, that had been to go through the drawers, file cabinet, and shelves. She’d saved the IT stuff for after hours because, considering what she’d done the night before, she was not in a big hurry for anybody to know just how good she was with a keyboard.
She looked at everything on the hard drive: All the files, anything he’d ever deleted, his web search history, what was on his calendar going back five years.
As she dove in, she felt like she had a catcher’s mitt, and she was ready for the handoff, the answer.
And she knew what it was going to be.
She just had this sixth sense …
About an hour later, after the sun had set and the label-printing job had long finished, a knocking sound reverberated down from the front of the building. Then there was a silence. And then the demanding sound resumed.
Getting to her feet, she zipped her pullover up to her throat. And wished it were bulletproof.
Not that she was being paranoid or anything.
Nah.
As she headed out to reception, she felt like there were shadows everywhere in the building, even though there were lights on all around. And as she glanced out the windows across the waiting area, the motion-activated security lights that glowed should have been reassuring. But weren’t.
She couldn’t see who was out there. And there were no lights in the parking lot.
If it was Candy coming back because she’d forgotten something or if Peter had decided to show up, they’d have keys. And Rick would have entered from the rear if he’d returned to check on the wolf who was still barely alive.
Closing in on the front door, she debated pretending she wasn’t inside, but how was that going to work with her car right there?
“Ms. Susi?” came a deep voice from the outside.
Lydia jumped forward and opened things. “Sheriff?”
Eastwind took his hat off and gave her a little bow. In his uniform, and with his serious expression, she had a thought that he was going to handcuff her and put her in the back of his SUV. After that? Orange Is the New Black. For like, ten years. Or more?
“I ran into Candy at the diner,” he said, “and she told me you’d probably still be here. Mind if I come in?”
“Please.” She made room by stepping back. “How are you?”
More importantly, how am I? A felon or … ?
“Good, thanks. You’re working late.”
“There are only five of us at the WSP.” Well, four who showed up for work. “So some days go into the evening.”
“I know all about that.” He glanced over to Candy’s desk. Looked down the hall to Lydia’s office. Checked out the waiting area. “So I’d like to ask you for some help. And just so we’re clear, I’m not coming with a warrant or anything.”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“Your preserve has cameras mounted in places, correct?”
Bingo, she