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"So, I kinda freaked and I left town. Went back to my hometown to get away from it all for a while."
"Normal," he said back.
"Yeah, well. Whoever it is sabotaged my car."
"How?" Xander asked and she felt her nerves prickling at his monosyllabic questions.
"Cut the brake lines. There was gas all over the engine. And something about the crankcase or something. I don't know when it happened. Maybe it was before I left for there..."
"No," Xander said, looking at her with his dark, almost black eyes. He had unnaturally thick black lashes. On any other face, they would have been pretty. "Cut brake lines fail quickly. It had to have happened in your hometown. Which is?"
"Stars Landing. In Pennsylvania," she supplied.
"Okay. No chance you still have the car, right?"
"No," she admitted and he nodded. "And that's most of it. Today when I left my assigned parking space and came back, someone had sprawled 'You were supposed to die, whore' on the ground underneath."
"Okay," Xander said, finished writing. Hannah peeked and he had actually filled an entire page of yellow lined paper. "Well, obviously this person has an issue with you and your new... boyfriend," he said, the word leaving his mouth reluctantly as if he didn't like it.
Hannah nodded. "Who is he?" Xander asked and watched her face rise with panic. "Look sweetheart," he said the word automatically, as if he called all women it, "I don't care who he is. But I need to know."
"Elliott Michaels," she supplied and Xander's brows raised as if he was surprised.
"Of EM Corp," he said, writing it down and eyeing her again.
"Right."
"Well, that certainly doesn't cut down the pool of suspects," he said, noticing her raised eyebrow. He picked up a stack of papers. "I read every paper," he explained. "He has been in it a lot. He's dated a lot of women. Well, 'dated' wouldn't be the right word..."
"Yeah, I know. He sleeps around. I know," she said, defensive.
Xander surprised her by smiling. It was off-putting, inappropriate. Like he was amused by unusual things. "I'm not judging. I'm just saying. A man like him has to have a trail of angry women behind him."
"Yes, well. I need to know who it is. Discreetly," she added, poignantly.
"Oh, sweetheart I specialize in discreet."
"Good. Do you need anything else from me?"
"Just a couple more questions. One- where have the letters been showing up?"
"Work, mostly. Home sometimes."
"Two- do you have a doorman or some kind of security?"
"I bought extra locks. But no. No doorman. I've been thinking about moving though."
"That would be a good idea. Three- has anyone you know, especially at work, been off lately?"
Hannah laughed. A humorless, sad laugh. "I'm going to level with you. Elliott is my boss. And while no one has ever seen us be anything but professional, someone has been spreading rumors about me and just saying nasty things."
"Such as?"
Hannah sighed. "That I'm a slut. That I've slept with every guy in the office building. And that I'm fat."
"You're not fat," Xander said too quickly, like a kneejerk reaction from having heard women say it too often. "And I'm assuming you're not the office slut either."
"Hardly."
