Page 61 of Fractured Loyalties
I open the door and step into the hall. It smells sterile again. The clinic is louder now—phones ringing, someone wheeling a supply cart, a patient raising their voice about an appointment.
I spot her near the file cabinets. Alone.
“Celeste,” I say.
She turns. Her face softens. “Hey. Everything okay?”
I nod. Too quickly.
“Did you notice anyone go into my office while I was away?”
Her brow furrows. “Not that I know of. Why?”
“I thought I smelled something different in there. Like...cologne. Not mine.”
She tilts her head. “You sure it wasn’t something from outside? A patient, maybe?”
“It wasn’t that kind of smell.”
Now she’s alert. “You think someone’s been in your office?”
“I’m not sure. It’s probably nothing.”
She doesn’t look convinced.
“I’ll check with security,” she says.
“Thanks.”
I turn away before I say too much.
I can still feel the note in my pocket.
It might as well be a knife.
I return to my office with the note still in my pocket and a pit blooming under my sternum.
The door clicks shut behind me.
This time, I leave it unlocked.
Because locked doors don’t mean shit when the threat is already inside.
I pull open every drawer. One by one. They’re in perfect order. My backup hard drive is still in place.
I check my calendar. Nothing changed.
I check my trash can. Empty, like someone was too careful.
I sit back down and stare at the screen. No messages. No strange logins. No alerts from our internal system.
So why can’t I shake it?
The feeling of something shifting beneath me.
Like a foundation that waits until you're halfway across the bridge before cracking.
I think of Caleb.
