Page 10 of Come For Me
Chapter Four
The kitchen was empty. Safe, at least for the moment. Olivia slid inside with a sigh of relief and made a beeline for the utensil drawer next to the sink. A single steak knife rested inside, dull from years of slicing and sawing open packages, maybe the occasional piece of meat, but she’d take what she could get. That and a couple of forks went into her slacks pockets. Closing the drawer, she glanced around for more options.
Come on, Livie, think.
The room had a double row of cabinets along one wall, a long utilitarian table and uncomfortable chairs at the back, and a stove, fridge, and trash can on the side closest to the door. No real hiding places, though the niche where the trash can sat, a tiny space between the refrigerator and the back wall, was just big enough for her to slide into. She moved the trash can out but left the broom. Added a spray canister of Lysol from the cabinet beneath the sink. It was too heavy to carry around with her—did no one actually use the stuff?—but in a pinch she could spray several feet away. What else?
Plastic dishes and old cookie sheets. She slid one metal pan into her hideaway, then tucked her body into the small space and allowed herself to relax back against the wall for a moment. Dain’s voice in her head urged her to slow her panicked breathing, her racing thoughts. She couldn’t. The weight of her child in her womb, of Stan’s dead body, of the unknown—they wouldn’t allow her calm. She had to do something, but what?
Not much, if her little stash was anything to go by. But there was one thing she could do. Her cell phone was warm from her overheated body as she pulled it from her trouser pocket. Olivia congratulated herself on her barely shaking fingers as she woke the phone and quickly dialed 911. It only took three tries to get it right.
“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”
Her mind blanked.Deep breath, Livie.“I think my coworker was murdered.”
A brief pause shot her panic back up. Would they believe her? Think this was a prank? What did she really know, after all, other than that Stan was dead?
“Okay, ma’am, can you give me your name and address?”
Walking the dispatcher through the basics seemed to take forever. The need to beg for them to contact Dain, to get through to her husband choked her, but she pushed it aside. She’d talk to Dain when she finished with the police. If she finished with the police…
“Describe what you saw, please, Olivia.”
The image of Stan lying on the blood-soaked carpet was one she’d never forget. “I can’t find anyone else; my coworkers, I mean. I heard…”
“Heard what, ma’am?”
“I heard arguing, fighting. In the hall at the front of the office. I didn’t go up there.” Her baby had to stay safe, which meant Livie had to stay safe. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You’re doing exactly the right thing. You’ve found a secure location and you’ve called us. We have officers already dispatched to your location. Now, Olivia—”
Livie!She wanted to scream at the woman to call her Livie, to stop calling her anything, to just shut up so she could have a complete breakdown now that she wasn’t alone in this hellish situation. She did none of those things. Dain and her baby were counting on her to be smart, to get out of here alive.
And then the dispatcher’s words registered. “…door lock?”
“What?”
“Does the door to your room lock?”
She darted a quick glance around the fridge. “No.” The door was one of those without a turning handle, and she didn’t see a key hole for a lock.
“Is there another exit? Anywhere you can safely exit the building without going back to the main office?”
Of course! She was being so stupid. Adrenaline was fucking with her brain, as Dain would say. They’d probably need to talk about his language before the baby was born.
“There’s a stair access door at the end of this hall,” she whispered, the idea of going back out there stealing the strength from her voice. Could she not just crawl into the cabinet under the sink and hide her way through this?
“Can you reach the access door without being seen?”
“Anything’s possible,” she said, not really being sarcastic. She didn’t know where the threat was, so she figured that gave her equal chances of getting out or being caught, right?
What would Dain do?
The thought of her husband gave her the courage she needed as she moved back to the kitchen door, heart thumping in fear. She had to try this. She had to get back to Dain, and she had to keep her baby safe. Staying here wasn’t guaranteed to accomplish either goal. So she reached for the handle, her fingers tingling with terror.
“Okay, Olivia, I’m going to stay on the phone with you. I want you to see if you can make it to the door. I’m right here with you,” the woman told her, voice calm and compassionate. It helped, right up to the moment she placed her fingers on the air-chilled metal of the door handle.
Now she knew how heroines in horror movies felt. Grasping the bar sent her pulse soaring; twisting it made her light-headed. But no bogeyman jumped out with a butcher knife when she eased the door open. The hallway was silent as she slipped out.
