couldn't move, then I couldn't move fast enough. I was out of there, banging off the hallway walls and down that grand staircase. I'm not sure my feet even touched the ground. I tried the front door. Locked. Trapped. Then I remembered the dead bolt…
Dan, just coming up from the basement, took one look at my face. "What happened?"
"I just got… there's this message." I started to show him, but there wasn't time. "We have to go. Right
now."
"All right. Just let me reset the alarm."
I had a hard time threading the key into the lock, and then again on the other side. When we were in the car, I showed him the last fax that had rolled off. He held it up to the light of the street lamp. "What's this number, this 1018?"
I cringed to even think about it. "It's my hotel room."
"Those bastards," he said. "I swear I'm gonna kill someone before this is over."
"Who
exactly? What
bastards?
Who would know we were here unless they followed us? They could be watching right now."
"Let them watch." He started the engine, but paused to turn on the dome light and look at the fax more closely. "It came from the airport. Fucking Big Pete. It's starting all over again."
I reached up and turned off the light.
"Calm down, Shanahan."
"Why?"
"They're just trying to scare you."
"Mission accomplished. Let's get out of here, Dan. Right now."
As he pulled away from the curb and drove down the quiet street, I peered into every parked car, checked for movement behind every swaying tree. I wasn't sure I'd ever feel safe again.
"You might want to do one thing," he said, after we'd gone a few blocks in silence.
"What?"
"Change hotel rooms."
"Hotel rooms? I might want to change cities."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When I arrived at the airport Monday morning, Molly was already bent over her desk in the quiet office, lost in deep concentration.
"You're in early," I said.
Her head snapped up as she swung around in her squealing chair. I flinched and, trying not to spill my tea, dropped my keys.
"Ohmygod… don't sneak up on me like that."
"I'm sorry. I wasn't aware I was sneaking." I reached down for the keys. "What are you doing here? It's not even seven o'clock."
Hand to her chest, she drew a couple of theatrical breaths. "It's time for invoices. I save them up and do them once a month. And I'm going to need signatures, so don't go too far. Here"-she handed me my morning mail-"this should keep you busy."
"Yes, ma'am. Come in when you're ready." As she turned back to her work, I unlocked the door and fled to the sanctity of my own office, where I could continue to unravel in private.
I was still unhinged from Friday night. I was supposed to have spent the weekend apartment hunting. Instead, I'd holed up in my hotel room eating room-service food and watching pay-per-view movies. The only times I'd gone out were to run, and every time I had, I'd looked over my shoulder at least once and resented it.
With my coat off, my tea in hand, and the mail in front of me, I tried to go through my morning routine. But the normal routine did not include standing up to adjust the blinds three times, or rearranging the chairs in front of my desk, or straightening all the pencils in my drawer. It seemed that Ellen had already done that, anyway.
After not having looked all weekend, I finally gave in and pulled the faxes out of my briefcase. Nothing about them had changed since Friday, and they were just as offensive in the light of day. I still felt that scraping in the pit of my stomach when I looked at them, but I couldn't stop looking at them. Molly arrived, giving me a good reason to put them aside. Facedown.
She pushed through the door with a heavy ledger, an accordion file, and a large-key calculator, all of which she arranged methodically on her side of my desk.
"All you need is a green eyeshade," I said.
"Never mind what I need. I've got a system, and it's worked fine for some twenty-two years. The bills get paid on time, we don't pay them twice, and the
Dan, just coming up from the basement, took one look at my face. "What happened?"
"I just got… there's this message." I started to show him, but there wasn't time. "We have to go. Right
now."
"All right. Just let me reset the alarm."
I had a hard time threading the key into the lock, and then again on the other side. When we were in the car, I showed him the last fax that had rolled off. He held it up to the light of the street lamp. "What's this number, this 1018?"
I cringed to even think about it. "It's my hotel room."
"Those bastards," he said. "I swear I'm gonna kill someone before this is over."
"Who
exactly? What
bastards?
Who would know we were here unless they followed us? They could be watching right now."
"Let them watch." He started the engine, but paused to turn on the dome light and look at the fax more closely. "It came from the airport. Fucking Big Pete. It's starting all over again."
I reached up and turned off the light.
"Calm down, Shanahan."
"Why?"
"They're just trying to scare you."
"Mission accomplished. Let's get out of here, Dan. Right now."
As he pulled away from the curb and drove down the quiet street, I peered into every parked car, checked for movement behind every swaying tree. I wasn't sure I'd ever feel safe again.
"You might want to do one thing," he said, after we'd gone a few blocks in silence.
"What?"
"Change hotel rooms."
"Hotel rooms? I might want to change cities."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When I arrived at the airport Monday morning, Molly was already bent over her desk in the quiet office, lost in deep concentration.
"You're in early," I said.
Her head snapped up as she swung around in her squealing chair. I flinched and, trying not to spill my tea, dropped my keys.
"Ohmygod… don't sneak up on me like that."
"I'm sorry. I wasn't aware I was sneaking." I reached down for the keys. "What are you doing here? It's not even seven o'clock."
Hand to her chest, she drew a couple of theatrical breaths. "It's time for invoices. I save them up and do them once a month. And I'm going to need signatures, so don't go too far. Here"-she handed me my morning mail-"this should keep you busy."
"Yes, ma'am. Come in when you're ready." As she turned back to her work, I unlocked the door and fled to the sanctity of my own office, where I could continue to unravel in private.
I was still unhinged from Friday night. I was supposed to have spent the weekend apartment hunting. Instead, I'd holed up in my hotel room eating room-service food and watching pay-per-view movies. The only times I'd gone out were to run, and every time I had, I'd looked over my shoulder at least once and resented it.
With my coat off, my tea in hand, and the mail in front of me, I tried to go through my morning routine. But the normal routine did not include standing up to adjust the blinds three times, or rearranging the chairs in front of my desk, or straightening all the pencils in my drawer. It seemed that Ellen had already done that, anyway.
After not having looked all weekend, I finally gave in and pulled the faxes out of my briefcase. Nothing about them had changed since Friday, and they were just as offensive in the light of day. I still felt that scraping in the pit of my stomach when I looked at them, but I couldn't stop looking at them. Molly arrived, giving me a good reason to put them aside. Facedown.
She pushed through the door with a heavy ledger, an accordion file, and a large-key calculator, all of which she arranged methodically on her side of my desk.
"All you need is a green eyeshade," I said.
"Never mind what I need. I've got a system, and it's worked fine for some twenty-two years. The bills get paid on time, we don't pay them twice, and the
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