Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Guilt needles my conscience when I think about the fact I omitted in my application. I must make myself indispensable before my secret becomes known. I hate lying. I just didn’t see another way. I can only hope Mr. Lewis will forgive me.
Rubbing my eyes that burn from tiredness, I push away the troubling thoughts and focus on the number puzzle in front of me. It’s not going to solve itself.
“Come on,” I coax. “Don’t be so stubborn. Give it to me. You know you want to.”
I do a few more subtractions, and then the erroneous formula jumps out at me.
“Gotcha,” I say with a victorious grin aimed at the screen.
I save the balance statement and email it to Mr. Lewis so that he can look it over first thing in the morning. He’d want to send it to the client as soon as possible.
My back is sore from being bent over my computer for hours. I stand and stretch to relieve the ache in my muscles. I should take better care of myself. The salad I gobbled down at my desk more than four hours ago wasn’t enough to sustain me. I’m already hungry again.
I grab my bag and do a quick tour of the floor to switch off the hallway lights. Mr. Lewis is a stickler for saving costs, and rightly so. We’re in the middle of a worldwide energy crisis.
The lock on the door is electronic. It opens with a code typed into a keypad. Locking up requires nothing more than shutting the door behind me. After flicking off the light switch on the landing, I take the elevator to the lobby where the night guard sits behind the reception desk.
“Hey, Zack.” I smile. “What are you reading tonight?”
He lifts his book to show me the cover.
“Another horror novel?” I bend sideways to read the title. “Is it good?”
He grins. “It certainly keeps me awake.”
“Well, that’s positive then,” I tease. “We can’t have you sleeping on the job, can we?”
“You’ll be sleeping on the job if you keep up the late hours.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” I tease. “It’s the first time I worked this late.”
“You should’ve left with Mr. Lewis.” Zack earmarks the page and closes the book. “He could’ve walked you home. It’s not safe for a woman out alone at this hour. You just missed him with a couple of seconds. If you hurry, you can catch up with him. He’s heading toward the subway on Fourteenth Street and Eighth Avenue.”
“I don’t live far,” I say thoughtfully, stuck on what Zack said about Mr. Lewis leaving shortly before. “Wait. I thought Mr. Lewis left twenty minutes ago.”
“He came downstairs but went to the archive room.”
“The archive room?”
“He said he needed to do some filing.”
That’s odd. We have dedicated staff for filing, and Mr. Lewis never sets foot in the dusty underground vault. Whenever he needs a document, he calls down and asks that it’s brought to his office.
“Best get going now,” Zack says. “Don’t let Mr. Lewis get too far ahead.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say on my way to the door, still puzzled about the information Zack shared.
“You have my number if you run into trouble,” he calls after me before adding with a hint of humor, “And don’t worry, I won’t forget to set the alarm upstairs.”
It’s no doubt an order Mr. Lewis repeats daily.
“Thanks,” I shoot over my shoulder as I open the door.
I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. I make a mental note to ask Livy if she noticed anything strange about Mr. Lewis’s behavior.
The early fall breeze is cool on my cheeks when I walk outside. Pulling my cardigan tighter around myself, I make my way down the quiet cobblestone street. Most of the buildings in the vicinity are offices, and the workers are long gone. My apartment building is only two blocks north. It’s a short walk, but a shiver crawls down my spine as I pass in front of the deserted premises with their blackened windows. The sidewalks that are always bustling with pedestrians when I walk home are now eerily empty. I often work overtime, but staying until after midnight is a first for me.
I take my phone from my bag and clutch it in my hand. Having all the emergency numbers as well as Zack’s programmed in my quick dials makes me feel better. The rubber soles of my ballerina flats fall soundlessly on the concrete as I quicken my pace. A bar up ahead stays open late. Light spills from the windows. At least there’s life around.
I’m at the corner of the building when a grunt comes from the alley. I jerk my face toward the sound, and then I freeze. Two men stand under the pale light that streams from an upstairs window, pushing a third against the wall. When the tallest of the two lifts his hand, I open my mouth to shout a warning, to demand what they’re doing, but the scream dies on my lips when the shiny edge of a blade catches the light.