garage attached to the building.”
Kim turned and grabbed the knob to the entrance door only to realize it had locked automatically. “I left something inside. Do you have a key to this door?”
“No.”
Kim pulled her smartphone out of her pocket and pressed the redial for Neagley’s office. The phone rang repeatedly before a voice mail service picked up asking her to leave a message. She hung up.
“Office opens in the morning at nine,” he said.
Kim pressed the camera button on her phone, lifted it to capture him in full face view and pressed the video record.
“You need facial recognition to identify me,” he said. “You can’t simply make a call, can you? Means you’re not officially here, doesn’t it?”
She closed her phone and walked away.
“We’ll be back,” Gaspar said, as he moved to follow Kim toward the elevator bank.
“I’ll be here,” he repeated.
When Gaspar reached Kim, he leaned against the wall where she stood waiting for the elevator.
“What do you suppose that guy is all about?” Gaspar asked.
“He’s connected to Neagley. You expected cooperation? This has got to be the slowest elevator on the planet.” She punched the call button again and glanced at her Seiko. “It’s almost seven o’clock. Missed our plane.”
“We could catch a cab to O’Hare and get a later flight. Or check in somewhere and grab dinner. Come back tomorrow. Try again with Neagley. Call the Boss in the meantime.”
Kim said nothing.
“Want me to keep tossing out options, or are you going to pick one, Dragon Lady Boss?”
Before Kim could reply to his sarcasm, Neagley emerged from inside her office and strode purposefully past the door guard and then past them toward the stairwell. She offered no sign of recognition.
Gaspar noticed Neagley first. He went after her. His long stride covered ground quickly.
“Neagley!” Kim called out.
Neagley didn’t alter her pace. She reached the heavy steel fire door, pushed it open and moved into the stairwell. She’d be down the entire ten flights and out into the night long before the elevator arrived.
Kim followed right behind Gaspar. Quickened her step to catch up.
Gaspar reached the stairwell entrance. He grabbed the knob and pushed against the closing fire door, pressed it wider and continued onto the landing.
Kim was a split second behind him.
She reached out to keep the fire door open after he passed through and followed him into the stairwell.
Before her eyes could adjust to the dim emergency lighting, Kim heard a heavy grunt three steps ahead.
In the dimness, she saw Gaspar’s body crumpled on the cement floor in front of her.
Her momentum carried her forward and she tripped over him.
She reached out, seeking the wall’s solid, cool touch, and pivoted quickly away from his body.
But not quickly enough.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Friday, November 12
3:00 a.m.
Chicago, IL
Kim felt relaxed and a little lazy. She hovered at the edge of consciousness in a state she sometimes attained through meditation. She felt no anxiety, no urgency. She seemed to be floating in a pool of delicious quiet. Her consciousness began to deepen into sleep once more and she willingly succumbed.
Until her pillow moved of its own accord, and her eyes jumped open. The only light came from weak emergency bulbs bolted to the wall, casting an eerie red patina.
The room was confusing. Not her bedroom. Not her hotel room. Where was she?
There was rough fabric under her cheek instead of the silk pillowcases she preferred. Her pillow was rigid, unforgiving. Something was wrong with her bed, too. Hard as cement and just as cold. How could that be?
Her pillow moved again. She bolted upright into a full sitting position, heart pounding, and blinked several times to clear the sleep fog from her vision.
What she could see in the dim light only ramped up her anxiety. Her pillow had been Gaspar’s bony, trouser-clad shin. For a moment she thought he might be
Kim turned and grabbed the knob to the entrance door only to realize it had locked automatically. “I left something inside. Do you have a key to this door?”
“No.”
Kim pulled her smartphone out of her pocket and pressed the redial for Neagley’s office. The phone rang repeatedly before a voice mail service picked up asking her to leave a message. She hung up.
“Office opens in the morning at nine,” he said.
Kim pressed the camera button on her phone, lifted it to capture him in full face view and pressed the video record.
“You need facial recognition to identify me,” he said. “You can’t simply make a call, can you? Means you’re not officially here, doesn’t it?”
She closed her phone and walked away.
“We’ll be back,” Gaspar said, as he moved to follow Kim toward the elevator bank.
“I’ll be here,” he repeated.
When Gaspar reached Kim, he leaned against the wall where she stood waiting for the elevator.
“What do you suppose that guy is all about?” Gaspar asked.
“He’s connected to Neagley. You expected cooperation? This has got to be the slowest elevator on the planet.” She punched the call button again and glanced at her Seiko. “It’s almost seven o’clock. Missed our plane.”
“We could catch a cab to O’Hare and get a later flight. Or check in somewhere and grab dinner. Come back tomorrow. Try again with Neagley. Call the Boss in the meantime.”
Kim said nothing.
“Want me to keep tossing out options, or are you going to pick one, Dragon Lady Boss?”
Before Kim could reply to his sarcasm, Neagley emerged from inside her office and strode purposefully past the door guard and then past them toward the stairwell. She offered no sign of recognition.
Gaspar noticed Neagley first. He went after her. His long stride covered ground quickly.
“Neagley!” Kim called out.
Neagley didn’t alter her pace. She reached the heavy steel fire door, pushed it open and moved into the stairwell. She’d be down the entire ten flights and out into the night long before the elevator arrived.
Kim followed right behind Gaspar. Quickened her step to catch up.
Gaspar reached the stairwell entrance. He grabbed the knob and pushed against the closing fire door, pressed it wider and continued onto the landing.
Kim was a split second behind him.
She reached out to keep the fire door open after he passed through and followed him into the stairwell.
Before her eyes could adjust to the dim emergency lighting, Kim heard a heavy grunt three steps ahead.
In the dimness, she saw Gaspar’s body crumpled on the cement floor in front of her.
Her momentum carried her forward and she tripped over him.
She reached out, seeking the wall’s solid, cool touch, and pivoted quickly away from his body.
But not quickly enough.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Friday, November 12
3:00 a.m.
Chicago, IL
Kim felt relaxed and a little lazy. She hovered at the edge of consciousness in a state she sometimes attained through meditation. She felt no anxiety, no urgency. She seemed to be floating in a pool of delicious quiet. Her consciousness began to deepen into sleep once more and she willingly succumbed.
Until her pillow moved of its own accord, and her eyes jumped open. The only light came from weak emergency bulbs bolted to the wall, casting an eerie red patina.
The room was confusing. Not her bedroom. Not her hotel room. Where was she?
There was rough fabric under her cheek instead of the silk pillowcases she preferred. Her pillow was rigid, unforgiving. Something was wrong with her bed, too. Hard as cement and just as cold. How could that be?
Her pillow moved again. She bolted upright into a full sitting position, heart pounding, and blinked several times to clear the sleep fog from her vision.
What she could see in the dim light only ramped up her anxiety. Her pillow had been Gaspar’s bony, trouser-clad shin. For a moment she thought he might be
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