Swallowing thickly, my throat dry and a nervous heat coursing through me, I stare at the closed door, wondering what the hell is going on and finding myself more anxious or nervous or possibly even scared than I’d like to be.
“It’s only a piece of paper,” I chide myself out loud and move to toss it in the trash can along with the empty bottle of wine, but as I slip my fingers down it to throw it away, I feel a groove in the paper, an etching along the crisp page.
It takes me a moment of standing there alone in my office as the sun sets deep and low, stealing the lighter colors of the evening sunset with it, before I reach into my desk for the only pencil I have. I’m careful as I angle the tip along the one groove I feel. I follow it along the paper, listening to the ticking clock seemingly slowing down as my heartbeat picks up and I read what it says.
Breathe. I force myself to steady my breathing and double-check that the door is locked.
It wasn’t a random piece of paper that was dropped, and I didn’t imagine the knock I heard. I don’t hesitate to call security, slamming down the buttons as I stare at the door and then below it, to the strip of light that shines through unobstructed, letting me know there’s no one there. I’m still not moving from this office without security.
They answer on the first ring. “Security.”
“I need an escort.”
“Ma’am, are you all right?”
“No. Someone is on floor three or was a moment ago. They left a threat at my door and I need an escort as soon as possible, please.” I’m vaguely aware of how calm my voice is even though inside chaos ensues.
I’m not crazy. Someone was watching me today. Someone wants me dead and I think I know who.
The man on the line tells me to stay with him and asks what the threat was. I read the note aloud. “If they rot, you rot with them.”
“We have the footage from the security cameras,” the detail informs me. “We’ll find whoever it was.” He doesn’t tell me anything I don’t already know, but still I nod in understanding and thank him.
The man’s voice is deep but professional. It’s soothing too. When he rapped his knuckles on my door and called out my name… I’m ashamed at the immediate relief I felt. I have a gun I carry too. Still, there’s a lot to be said about having a trained professional by your side.
“We’ll know who did this within the hour.”
“I know,” I say again. I’ve hardly spoken and I know I’m poor company at the moment. “I just want to go home right now.” And get the hell out of here.
With his black hat on and heavy beard, I barely get a good look at Steve. He has broad shoulders though and his uniform doesn’t hide that. The other one, who’s waiting outside the garage, is less impressive in size. I’m far more familiar with him, though. His name’s Taylor and he’s been here for years.
Steve must be new; I haven’t met him before. “I prefer the stairwell if—”
“I do too,” I say, cutting off the newcomer, already knowing protocol. This isn’t the first time I’ve been threatened. Although this feels different. If someone’s waiting for me, the last thing I need is to have a set of doors open and reveal a gun pointed at me. Stairs all the way, my thighs be damned.
Pressing the side button, I check my phone again to see if Cody’s called back as we walk up the flight of concrete stairs to the second floor where my car is parked. The sounds of the city traffic behind us reverberates in the lot as I see I have no missed calls or messages.
My throat is dry and tight with that new information. I called him the second the two men in uniform came to my door to escort me to my car, relieving the security guard who was on the phone with me.
With a deep breath in and an even deeper one out, I tell myself he must not have his phone on him. That’s more comforting than the more likely scenario: he saw and judged my call to be less important than what he was already doing.
“You all right?” the man to my right asks me as I pull out my