Page 63 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

I count to ten and take deep breaths to steady my beating heart.

I’m not positive this camera can track movements, but I stay flat against the wall for good measure.

Nodding to myself, I glide my back against the door, onto the wall on the other side, and tug my beanie off.

The only way I can keep myself from plain sight is if I can cover the lens.

Tossing my beanie up in the air, I pray it catches. But it doesn’t. I try again, swinging my arm up harder. My breath gets caught in my throat as I watch it dip down. Relief swarms me when I see the inside of my hat hook over the tip of the camera lens.

I wait another ten seconds before I dodge down the hallway. My adrenaline courses through my veins like a snake slithering in the grass. I stop when I see the big, bold, black letters that spell out ‘Confidential.’

My hands clamp underneath the thick gloves, leaving me to progressively try to wipe my fingers against my palm to swat it away. Tapping the keycard on my hand, I curse to myself and swipe it.

A red light flares at the top of the door, and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.

God dammit, Summer, I think to myself.

The moment the door shuts, I debate on flicking the light on. I decide against it and pull my phone out, holding down on the flashlight icon until it shines through the dark room. Sliding my sunglasses off, I hook them into the collar of the shirt. My eyes scan the area momentarily to see rows of metal cabinets lining the room.

I blow out a breath, overwhelmed by where to start. When I reach for the first cabinet closest to me, I take a second to pull the first file out and read the name. It’s inconvenient, but it gives me enough information. Each cabinet is laid out in alphabetical order.

Relief swarms in at how much easier that makes my part.

Still, the panic wins the battle deep inside behind my ribs.

I move swiftly up and down the aisles until I find a row with the letter R and start looking carefully through each cabinet. There are about eight, maybe ten at that. My muscles tense. I roll my neck to release some of the aches I’m feeling, and my fingers start maneuvering through the manilla envelopes while the light on my phone shines up each name in the dark room.

It feels like I’ve been looking for twenty minutes.

Pulling open the second to last cabinet, I shuffle through the envelopes. My mouth curves upward, and I pull one of the envelopes out that reads Katherine Raleigh.

The trepidation inside me swarms and intensifies as I tuck the envelope under my arm and pull out my phone to text Summer.

Got it. Meet me in the car. We have to go… fast.

Turning to walk back to the door, I stop mid-step when my eyes catch the sections with last names that start with an S.

Temptation to shuffle through these cabinets for my file sweeps in, but I decide against it. Even if I took the file, I’m positive Raleigh has a backup somewhere and it’d be no use to me.

I have already lost Callie. So, what difference would it make?

A low beep sounds, and my eyes dart to the door as the knob slowly turns. I drop to the ground in near panic, stuffing my phone into my pocket and shuffling to the end of the room as quickly and quietly as possible. Meanwhile, a little voice in the back of my head is screaming at me. I duck underneath a table in the far back in just enough time before a man flicks the light on and starts to whistle. His boots tap against the ceramic floor, heading in my direction.

Instinctively, I stiffen. My eyes clamp shut while I hold my breath as if that’ll help me stay quiet. My chest rattles, my heart pounding. Sweat trickles across my forehead as the panic swirls around my insides.

Relax, Alec.

When I open my eyes slowly, they widen as I stare at two black work boots. I watch carefully as they move around the room.

Fuck, I need to relax. And I’m trying. I really am, but god damn, if this anxiety doesn’t stay at the shorelines, I’m not certain I’ll be able to succeed any further.

The whistling stops as a drawer glides open, echoing off the walls. I swallow the lump that is lodged in the center of my throat, forcing it down so I can suck in a proper amount of air.

I’m still breathing, so that’s good.

I haven’t been caught yet… even better.

The drawer closes with a loud slam. I jump from the sudden sound, but my muscles contract, tightening to the point I’m not sure I can feel anything anymore.

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