I shot a wary glance at my messenger bag, still on the floornear the front door. I could’ve sworn I’d handed the book to Deanne along with the files. But when I got home after work last night and dug around for my house keys, there it was, still nestled inside my bag.
“The accident investigators say her brake lines were cut,” Scully said. “Her car crash was a deliberate act.”
I put my head in my hands. This was all my fault. If I hadn’t gone to Deanne with what I’d discovered about Staminax, she’d still be alive right now, and I wouldn’t have just lied to federal agents.
But I couldn’t just sit around and let Pharma-Douche hide those test results. Men everywhere—well, those wanting longer-lasting erections—would be in a world of hurt.
Mulder frowned, his expression growing sterner. “Which means her accident was no accident.”
Yeah, um, okay. I got that already. Which was part of why I was freaking out right now.
My phone buzzed. I grabbed it, thankful for the distraction. Although I hoped it wasn’t one of those mega-long bricks of texts that my mother was famous for sending at the most inopportune times—my world has not been the same since she learned how to dictate her texts. Mom was on a cruise with her friends, so it was likely to be about how irritated she was with Carol’s loud snoring, Marielle’s complaints about her bunions, or how the prime rib at the all-you-can-eat buffet was entirely too fatty.
I looked at the screen, and my heart nearly stopped.
“What is it?” Agents Scully and Mulder said in unison.
I turned my phone around so they could see for themselves. It was a photo from an anonymous sender. A poorly punctuated Wicked Witch meme, to be exact. In large block script it said,I’ll get u my Pretty and yur Little Dog to.”
Since I’m the kind of person who can’t share a meme with a spelling mistake, I found this cringe-worthy on several levels.I had a cat, however, not a dog. Speaking of which, I could really use a snuggle, but George was more chicken than cat around strangers and was probably hiding under my bed right now.
“Is there somewhere else you can stay?” Scully asked, her voice tinged with concern. “With a friend or a relative, maybe.”
I looked around my sparsely furnished apartment. The threadbare sofa. The cluttered shelf filled with all my favorite books that I couldn’t bear to part with. The three boxes of supplies for my online apothecary store that I kept under my cute dining room table, which, by the way, I’d rescued from the side of the road and painted.
I hadn’t been here long, having moved here from Chicago when I was hired at Griffin, so I hadn’t formed a huge attachment to the place yet.
But it wasmine. And only mine. After the messy breakup with my fiancé, I wanted nothing around me that used to be “ours.” I’d closed that chapter of my life and didn’t plan to reread it.
In fact, I’d just gotten permission from my landlord to paint the living room from institutional gray to dove gray and had a few samples taped to the wall.
Then my gaze fell on the flimsy front door. It didn’t have a deadbolt or a chain. Just a push-button lock on the handle. Easily kick-in-able.
Mulder’s eyes were monstrously huge behind his glasses as he looked down his nose at me. “This is serious stuff, kid.”
Irritation bubbled inside me. Number one, I was a full-grown woman, thank you very much. And number two, had Isaidit wasn’t serious?
“Mr. Griffin is a man of means,” he continued, enunciating each word as if he were talking to a child. “Which means he’s got the means to do some serious harm. You know, the money to pay bad people to do bad things on his behalf. Just like he didto your supervisor. You don’t want the same thing to happen to you. Do you, Ms. Dupree?”
I gritted my teeth at his mansplaining, my patience running as thin as nonfat milk.
“For how long?” I asked, expecting them to say for a couple of days at the most. Just until they arrested Mr. Griffin.
Scully shrugged. “Depends. A few weeks maybe—or months. Cases like this are complicated and can take time to put together.”
Months? I jumped to my feet, unable to contain my shock. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Mulder folded his arms. “We’re federal agents, Ms. Dupree. We don’t kid.”
“Isn’t there a safe house or somewhere I can stay until you arrest Pharma D— Mr. Griffin?”
Scully’s expression was apologetic. “Sorry. Government cutbacks.”
I paced around my pint-sized living room. Staying at my mother’s wasn’t an option. She lived in a retirement community that didn’t allow underage houseguests for more than a night or two. My father wasn’t in the picture—I hadn’t seen him in years. The wound from his desertion still stung, so I didn’t like to think about him much. As for my brother? I couldn’t exactly couch surf at his place. He was stationed overseas. My two good girlfriends were out of the question too. One had a new baby; the other was traveling with her new boyfriend.
Where in the world was I going to go? Sure, I could stay at a hotel for a few days, but with my tight budget, I couldn’t afford weeks or months.
By the time I came up with an idea, I had gotten pretty dizzy. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would have to do for now.
