Page 53 of Sinful Chains

But there was one thing that didn’t belong.

A manila envelope sat on top of my desk. No name, no label, just…there.

It hadn’t been there before class.

I set my phone down slowly, my heart beating a little faster now. I picked the envelope up. It was light, but not empty. I flipped it over, peeled the flap open, and reached inside.

One trifold sheet of plain white paper.

It was a little too heavy to contain words alone. I unfolded it slowly and carefully like it might explode in my hands.

A small plastic rectangle slipped out and landed on the desk with a quiet crack.

My key card.

I knew I’d misplaced it somewhere, but it never occurred to me that somebody might have taken it.

I stared at it, confused, before my eyes drifted to the paper in my hand. It contained just two sentences, typed in bold black ink.

FOUND SOMETHING YOU LOST, PROFESSOR. WHAT ELSE MIGHT YOU LOSE?

A ball formed in my stomach.

I stood frozen, swallowing hard as my brain attempted to make sense of the words.

My breathing shallowed, my chest tightening. Beads of sweat broke out across my forehead.

On instinct, I yanked my phone out of my pocket. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing at all except an emptiness that felt palpable.

You okay?

I waited a couple of minutes.

Nothing.

I stuffed the note in my pocket, grabbed my keycard, and headed out the door. San's office was just across the way in the administrative building. I had a feeling I was overthinking like I usually do, but it didn't matter. I wouldn't feel right until I laid eyes on her.

I stepped out into the parking lot. The air was thick with humidity, but there was something else. Something eerie. Ominous.

Just before I reached my car, I heard it, loud and shrill.

Tires screeched across the lot.

I froze, my body instantly on alert. My eyes shifted toward the sound. A nondescript black SUV sped away, its tires emitting white smoke.

San’s car was still parked.

A prickle of unease crawled up my spine.

You still in your office?

No response.

I called. Straight to voicemail.

My pulse kicked up, my throat growing dry as I strode toward the administrative building. Luckily, someone was exiting the locked double doors; I pushed right through the glass doors, squeezing past the man, bypassing the elevator to take the stairs two at a time. Her office was down the hall. I sped up my stride.

Empty.

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