Page 53 of The Librarian of Souls
As the doors of the elevator open on the ground floor, I run right into Lance.
“Woah there,” he says, grabbing a hold of my shoulders. His voice quickly turns from jovial to something else. “Is everything okay? Did Patrick say something?”
Maybe it’s because my ears are still ringing from the bombshell that was just dropped on me, but Lance doesn’t sound worried. I can’t figure out why, but I sense or feel or just plain know that he isn’t one bit concerned. I don’t make a habit of talking about my relationship or meetings with Patrick with anyone, and I won’t start now.
“Just been a long day already,” I sidestep my friend and make a move towards the front door.
“Ah, okay. He asked me about how you’ve been recently. I wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything crazy.”
That makes me pause. Why would Patrick ask Lance about me? Technically, my role doesn’t really have anything to do with compliance. Lance submits applications and forms to me for a final review. Sometimes we have meetings together when talking to new hires so he can ask some technical questions, but that is about it. We are work friends mostly because I used to sit next to him when I first started at Concord Construction.
“Why?” I sniffle a little pathetically and wipe my nose. “Did you tell him something?”
“I just told him that since you were mugged, I’ve been a bit concerned about you.”
The hairs on my arms rise as goosebumps run the length of them. I bristle under his gaze as he says the word mugged. A mugging is something everyone goes through. You can’t throw a stone in Gwenmore without hitting someone who has been mugged or had their phone nicked by some kid on a bike. It just happens in cities.
I wasn’t mugged.
I was fucking beaten to a pulp.
But that’s not what I told the police. That’s not what the incident report says. I’ve been telling everyone that some guy cornered me under the hoarding near the site, roughed me up, and stole my wallet. Nobody knows what really happened because I couldn’t tell the truth. And I honestly didn’t want to. Augustine served a better justice that night than the police would have.
“And with your new boyfriend, I think he’s worried about your commitment.”
“He doesn’t need to be.” I scowl. “I’ll see you later. I’ve got shit to deal with at Gary’s site again.”
“You need a hand?”
“Nothing I can’t manage.” I force a smile and walk out of the building.
As I round the corner onto the main road, I almost head straight for the library. That’s where my heart is calling me to. It’s where I wish I was headed rather than to that site. I haven’t had a reason to return to the office since the attack, and I have been grateful for that. With how I have been responding to the odd person calling me darling, I am not sure I will react well to being in that room again.
But like I told Lance, I can manage just fine. I can do my job, whatever the hell it may be today. I can do it. I belong at this company. Concord would have fallen apart after Patrick’s divorce if I hadn’t been there to hold it together. I’ll prove to everyone just how focused and productive I can be.
I enter the building’s main lobby, scan my key card to get through the turnstiles, and head straight for the elevator bank. The security nods his head to me, and already I feel a bit better. I keep up my internal pep talk until I land at the basement level.
Out in this hallway, I feel less secure in my skin. I remember it being barely lit, the feel of Augustine’s hand on my back. I want to keep remembering that, but as I punch in the security code and enter the site office, every bit of moisture in my body dries up. My throat is dry and my skin itches. My stomach churns and I fight the urge to cover it with my arms. I grip the worn straps of my purse harder and walk through the clean room to where Gary sits at his makeshift desk, stepping around where I had taken that beating.
He looks up at me, but doesn’t say anything until I sit down on the folding chair across from him.
“You alright?” He asks, pulling a face.
“Yeah.” I try to wave him off, but my voice cracks. I am so far from alright. I want to run as far away from this room as possible. “So, what’s up? Is everything alright here?”
“Not really,” Gary grumbles. “We had a power outage last night around nine, the whole security system went down and it wasn’t until the crew got in this morning that anyone noticed.”
“Shit,” I say, rubbing the bridge of my nose. My purse falls almost silently to the ground and I jump. “Sorry. Was anything stolen, do we know?”
“Not that we can tell. There wasn’t even a screwdriver out of place. It’s just that when we checked the log to see who last entered this office, it was your access code.”
“Gary,” I start immediately, a level of incredulity in my voice that would tip anyone off that I am moments from breakdown again. “I went home sick yesterday. I was most definitely not here.”
“Now, Joanna,” he leans across the desk and stares at me, “I know you work crazy stupid hours. Even if it was you, there’s been no harm done. I just have to file-”
“I wasn’t here,” I insist. Tears spring to my eyes, I don’t know how to get him to understand. The system is wrong. I was drowning in anxiety at nine last night. My access code to this specific site is known by three whole people. Four, I guess, if you consider that Augustine had to help me punch it in that first night, but he was at his meeting. There are a whole bunch of people who will vouch for him.
“The security guard was on rounds when it went down and since our system is separate from theirs, they had no way of knowing.” Gary continues. “I just need to know howyouwant to handle this.”
