Page 20 of 1st Shock
"Then who?"
"I don't know, but we're about to find out."
I roll Charlie's chair to the credenza along the far wall and sit while waiting for her desktop for the security system to boot up.
After logging in, a few keystrokes bring me to this morning's videos. I find the one for the hallway camera and click on it. A second later, a color image pops up, the timestamp showing 12:00:01.
Thinking logically, if someone had broken in, the alarm would’ve sounded. Plus, Haley just told me she'd disarmed it when she arrived. Somewhere between then and now, someone screwed with my Emily.
I select the small circle on the video bar until it reaches 8:43:00. I slow my clicking down, moving at one minute intervals until I get to 10:30:00. No Jack.
Click, click, click.
Click.
I keep going. Another ten and there's Haley, hustling to the back where she pauses, obviously asking who it is. Good girl. She opens the door and our delivery man enters with two boxes he sets in my office. Haley signs for it, points to the reception area and Jack nods. He watches for a second as she jogs away from him, her ankles wobbling on her high-heels. Haley disappears from view and Jack exits, returning a minute later with two more boxes.
Then he's gone. 10:46:35.
And the door is unlocked.
I click another dozen or so times, searching for anyone else who may have entered.
Bingo. 10:51:13.
The back door comes open. A man in jeans, a black sweatshirt, a black baseball cap and one of those reflective vests utility workers are required to wear stands in the doorway, peering straight ahead. I zoom in as tight as the system will allow and see the chin-length platinum blond hairs that hangs below his cap.
A rush of adrenaline explodes, rushing straight down my neck and firing another burst of anger over the invasion of my space. I lock my teeth together. Bastard.
His head is dipped and there's a logo on the cap, but I can't make it out. That'll be a job for Charlie or Matt. They have techie contacts that might be able to get a tighter zoom. For now, it's above my pay grade.
He lingers for a second, then another. Waiting, I presume, to see if someone might appear to question him.
Behind me, Haley gasps.
I've pretty much forgotten she's there and I peer up at her.
"Oh, my God," she says. "I'm so sorry."
I pause the video. She'ssorry? She could’ve been murdered andshe'sapologizing tome.
"Don't you dare apologize. I'm just glad you're all right. Do you want to watch this? Maybe you shouldn't."
"Oh, I'm watching. That way if I see the fucker, I can kick him in the balls."
Ha. I like her spunk. She reminds me of my sister.
I click once more and the video rolls. "All right then."
Our intruder moves through the hallway, his steps light but quick. The conference room door is closed, but he pauses. He keeps his head low with the bill of his cap hiding his features as he presses his ear against it. Then he spots the next door—my studio—open and peels away. In three strides, he reaches my office and peeps in, sees the space empty, then enters.
At this moment, while I watch some stranger invade my sanctuary, I regret the war I waged when Charlie suggested security cameras for each office. I threw every ounce of my being into the argument. I'm an artist, I told her. I can't work with cameras spying.
Now I wish I'd let my security conscious sister have her way.
Haley and I sit quietly. What is there to say when a strange man creeps around two doors from where she fields calls?
I look at her and my gaze locks on her blond hair and the long column of her neck. The weight of a full-on body slam hits me. This could have been so much worse. I could’ve returned to find our assistant with her throat slashed clear to the bone.
