Page 36 of Done Dirty

Brett Callum was behind the desk. He answered a phone call, waved a couple of residents through, checked something on his screen. It was a quiet building on a quiet morning and there wasn’t much to manage.

“Brett Callum,” Jack said. “Firefighter. Picks up shifts here for extra money.”

“Around noon, the manager and the concierge order lunch.” Doug toggled to the conference room camera. “Some local place. They eat together in there. Twenty minutes, then she goes back to her office and he goes back to his phone.”

“How’d they seem?” Daniels asked.

“Lots of conversation. Seemed friendly, like it’s something they do frequently,” Doug said. He scrubbed forward. “Afternoon is quieter. Except for her.” He slowed the footage on the gym camera. A woman in a sports bra and tiny shorts had a ring light set up next to a weight bench, her phone clipped into it and aimed at herself. She wasn’t working out.

“That’s the woman from the lobby this morning,” I said.

“She’s in 203,” Doug said. “She’s got an OnlyFans.”

I looked at him. “I thought OnlyFans was eighteen-plus?”

“Oh, I know,” he said, coloring slightly. “Just doing some research.”

“Mmm,” Jack said.

“Douglas, did you subscribe to her channel?” Margot asked.

“Of course not.”

“She seems to spend a lot of time licking her lips and flipping her hair,” Margot commented. “She went to the pool after the gym. Busy day. Why even bother wearing a bathing suit?”

Doug toggled to the pool camera. Same woman. The ring light and phone were positioned at the edge of the pool to capture her getting out of the water. Why wear a bathing suit indeed?

“She uses the whole building,” Doug said. “Gym, pool, lobby. Wherever the light’s good.”

“At least someone’s getting their money’s worth out of the amenities,” Daniels said.

“Move on, Doug,” Jack said.

He kept moving. “Other than the influencer, the afternoon is pretty quiet. A few residents in and out. Package delivery. Nothing.” He kept moving. “Then here.” He slowed the footage. “6:43 p.m. Front entrance.”

Wade Rivers came through the door carrying two bags of groceries, something in each hand. He said something to Brett that made Brett laugh, then moved toward the elevators.

Nobody said anything for a moment. There’s always something unsettling about watching a dead man go about his last ordinary evening—picking up groceries, exchanging a joke with the concierge, not knowing. It doesn’t get easier no matter how many times you see it.

“There he is,” I said. “Just like Brett said.”

Doug tagged the time stamp. “Right here.” A woman came out of the ground floor office just as Wade was heading toward the elevator. She said something to him and he smiled and held the door.

“Jessica Contreras,” I said. “Her office is on the ground floor.”

Doug toggled to the elevator camera. We watched them ride up together. Jessica said something and touched his arm. Then she laughed at whatever he said back and leaned in closer than she needed to. Wade smiled and said something back. He looked like a man who’d done this a hundred times.

“She’s working pretty hard in there,” Daniels said.

“She told us they were just friendly,” Jack said. “That looks very friendly. At least on her part.”

“The evening is quiet after that,” Doug said. “The concierge does a final check and locks the front door, then he gets his bag and leaves through the back entrance where he’s parked. We’ve got three residents using their key fob. One at 7:17, another at 7:52, and the last at 8:23. Then things get interesting.”

“In what way?” Jack asked.

The screen went dark.

Not a flicker. Not a glitch. One frame there was a lobby. The next frame was nothing.