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She carefully tapped the pages into a pile, sighed dramatically, and opened the door into EM's office.
Hannah felt relief rush over her like a tidal wave when she saw that EM was having a loud conversation with someone on the phone. "I have the correspondence right here..." His voice sounded clipped, slightly annoyed. He tapped the desk in front of himself quickly and Hannah scurried to place the pages down and rush right back out again.
Had she messed up somewhere along the line? Someone was obviously calling to complain about something she said to them. Part of her had wanted to stay, to hear things out, to defend herself if EM started to place blame. The other part of her couldn't even bear to make eye contact with EM. She was sure her face would break into a hot-red blush.
When she got back into her office, Tad was sitting on the edge of her desk. He gestured to the desk surface where four more envelopes sat unopened.
"I'm guessing these are more of the same," he said, gesturing with a danish in his hand. He scoffed at her shrug and frowned. "Why wouldn't you tell me, Hannah? I could have helped."
"Helped how, Tad?" Hannah asked, gathering up the letters and opening the packed box and slipping them inside. "Talking to HR? What could they possibly say? There's nothing in these suggesting who might be writing them."
Tad reached out, taking the box from her hands and opening it. A darkness came across his face, turning his skin a lighter, sickly color. It was a look that made her want to rush over and hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay. His fingers dug through the letters. He occasionally picked one up and scanned it, cursing under his breath and reaching for another.
"When did this start?" he asked, breaking a silence that stretched longer than felt comfortable.
"I don't know. I think it was around the time those girls called me fat. When the office rumors were new."
"Jesus, Hannah. Why would you suffer this alone? Maybe I could have put feelers out and see if anyone knew where the rumors started. I didn't think it was this serious."
"They're just notes. They're awful and creepy but it hasn't escalated or anything. Just more and more every few days. And emails too. And this," she said, clearing folders off her desktop and moving the huge calendar.
Tad let out a low, long whistle. "This is some crazy stalker shit right there. Maybe it's like that movie and it's the person who develops your pictures that got all obsessed with you."
Hannah chuckled, thankful that Tad found some humor in the situation. It wasn't like him to be so severe. "Except no one actually uses film anymore."
"True," Tad shrugged, rubbing a rough edge of a nail against his jeans. "Hey," he said, his face snapping up, "did you ever consider that it might be Dan?"
Dan? Hannah felt some of the pieces fall together. Who else would have a motive greater than EM's soon to be ex-wife? And she seemed like the kind of cold, viscous person to do something like threaten her. But why would she even think she was a threat? The image on EM on top of her, her nails digging into his back popped into her head. She shook it off quickly. It all started way before that anyway.
But, Hannah realized with a start, Dan wasn't just some crazy irrationally jealous wife anymore. She had every right to see Hannah as a threat. She had slept with her husband, regardless of their separation. Maybe she did this to all the assistants. It certainly explained why no one seemed to last in that position.
"You should go to the police," Tad interrupted her train of thought. "Bring this box and let them go all CSI on it."
Hannah smiled. "They wouldn't have anything to compare it to though," she answered, shuffling the pages neatly away in the box.
"You don't know that. Maybe they have a crazy psycho stalker database or something." At her raised eyebrow, he laughed. "Alright fine. I get it. There's not enough to go on, but I'd feel better if you at least got some professional advice."
Hannah patted Tad's knee. "If there's something more to go on, I will."
But it would get her nowhere. She had learned in college when one of her dorm-mates had a crazy stalker ex-boyfriend sending her notes and leaving creepy pictures- that stalking was the fastest growing crime and there is very little legislature to prevent or stop it until something violent happens. It was a sad reality she watched her friend live through for almost two years before it suddenly stopped. The police they had spoken to one night when he had gotten into their rooms and written in what looked like blood on the walls, that it was become more and more prominent because of how public young people's lives were online. Hannah had followed his advice and deleted all of her social media to lessen the likelihood of becoming a victim herself.
And there she was anyway.
"Hey," she said, looking at Tad checking his email on his phone. "Do me a favor?"
"For you," Tad smirked, "anything. Except dye your hair blonde. Because you would look hideous."
Hannah laughed. "Gee, thanks. But no. Please don't tell anyone about this. The rumors are bad enough. I don't want people knowing and possibly escalating the situation."
"Oh, pumpkin," Tad smiled, pulling her hand up to his lips and kissing it, "your secret it safe with me. And if you ever figure out who this bitch is- I'll help you kick her ass. Or," he said, reaching for the doorknob, "you know... give her a really awful perm or something."
Hannah felt a surprising sense of relief. Of course anything that causes serious emotional turmoil always feels more manageable when it is shared with a close personal friend. But actually being able to joke about it made it feel less overwhelming. She should have known she could count on Tad. Why she felt the need to keep it from him was beyond her. Maybe she was worried he would be able to see truth beyond the harsh words. And she couldn't bear Tad thinking of her that way.
"Hannah," EM's voice interrupted, sounding irritated and tired.
Hannah sighed, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. If she tried really hard, she could come off as cool and unaffected. As if randomly screwing around with her boss was no big deal, or, even something she was used to doing. Better for him to think of her as loose and casual about sex. Maybe the whole thing could blow over and become a vague memory.
EM sat uncharacteristically slumped in his chair, one of his elbows resting on the surface of his desk. When she closed the door, his starling blue eyes found hers and she felt her belly flutter quickly before she looked pointedly away.
