Page 12 of Pied Sniper

I hit a random buzzer.

“Hello?” came a disembodied voice.

“Pizza!”

“That’s probably for 2C. They never put the right apartment number on their orders,” grizzled the voice.

“Thank you, ma’am!”

Lily grabbed the handle and pushed the door when it buzzed open. “Security here is crap,” she remarked.

“Security doesn’t seem to be one of Tiffany’s fortes.”

“They don’t even have a doorman. She earns enough money to afford a much nicer building.”

“This isn’t exactly slumming,” I said, looking at the nice arrangement of chairs and the large potted plant taking up what could have been enough space for a reception desk and doorman. The floor tiles were recently cleaned and the plant was dust-free and quite healthy. A polished wooden unit fixed to the wall held mailboxes for the occupants and there was a secure parcel deposit box below. A closed door had a small plaque engraved with “stairs”.

“Stairs or elevator?”

I looked at the ceiling. There were a lot of stairs. We could easily miss someone hiding out in them if we took the elevator. On the other hand, at least fifteen minutes had passed since we hopped into Lily’s car so if someone entered and harmed Tiffany, they could be long gone by now. “The elevator,” I decided.

“I was afraid you’d say we should split up.”

“Absolutely not. We don’t know what’s going on yet. Anything on the livestream? Any noises at all?”

“Nothing.” Lily jabbed the up button and the elevator doors slid open. We stepped into the small, mirrored space and I hit the floor for the penthouse. The ride up felt like forever as my heart thumped loudly. Then the car stopped and a small ping sounded. We stepped out onto beige carpet. An antique chest of drawers stood in the hallway with only a dried flower arrangement in a vase on top of it. A large mirror hung on the wall behind it. That was the only furniture. Light came from long windows that were featured at both ends of the corridor. Four doors. I checked them all. The first was the stairwell, the second was locked with “Maintenance” embossed on a glossy bronze plate at the top. The closest apartment door was firmly shut and no one answered when I knocked.

“Lexi!” hissed Lily. I hurried towards her, looking to where she pointed: the final door. It was open barely a fraction and dark inside. “I can hear something,” she added softly.

I strained to hear. “I think it’s a dog,” I said, my voice as low as hers.

“What’s it saying?”

“Woof,” I said, holding back a small sigh. How was I supposed to know what the dog was saying? How do you translate a sad whimpering? I might not understand dog-speak, but I definitely understood the tone. It was very afraid.

“I don’t think so,” said Lily. “A dog wouldn’t just say ‘woof’.” She jostled her headphones. “I hear it on the livestream too.”

“I’m going in. Tiffany might be injured.”

“Right behind you.”

“Stay behind me. Don’t veer off anywhere. We need to stay together.”

“Okay. Are you packing any heat?”

I hesitated. “No.” If I’d been at home, I could have taken my gun from the safe. I felt inside my pocket. All I had was the knife my mother armed me with. It came in handy before. Its presence reassured me, although I didn’t want to get into a knife fight with anyone.

“Are you wearing a bullet-proof vest that I can’t see?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’m still staying behind you but only because you insist.”

I pushed the door open, my heart thumping again, and it revealed a dark hallway. “Hello?” I called. “Tiffany?” Lily thumped my arm. “What?” I asked.

“I just heard your voice on the video livestream,” she said. “We’re definitely in the right place!”

“Oh, good,” I replied before I called louder. “Tiffany? Are you okay?” I paused, waiting for Tiffany to answer she was hurt or needed help, but when no response came, I pressed on carefully, Lily glued to my heels. Spying a set of light switches on the wall, I reached over and flipped them on. After toggling them the other way and back again, I admitted defeat. The power was out in the apartment, but not in the hallway. The wide-open door behind us allowed light into the entry but not beyond. Blinking to adjust my eyes to the dusky light the further we stepped into the apartment, we inched past the doors, one leading to a small guest bathroom and another to a coat closet. I searched for any sign of Tiffany. The broad entryway was vacant but when we went a little further into the apartment, the mournful sounds of a very unhappy dog grew louder.

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