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“No visible chaos,” I said.
“No sign of commotion.”
“Seems quiet for an armed entry.”
“Maybe they’re professionals.”
“I’d love to cuff a pro more than I’d like to scratch that two-year-and-nine-month itch.”
This was my day. I could feel it in my bones.
“You’ve had no sex in two years?”
“Two years and nine months. Foxy’s conception was my last. This bust is better than an orange in your Christmas stocking.”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “Fuck, Laura. That’s bad. I bet you forgot how to orgasm.”
“Nonsense. I flicked one off under the shower this morning.”
“Argh, Laura. I didn’t need to know that.”
“Shouldn’t have asked then. Let’s be cautious in there.”
I fixed my shoulders back, and we walked to the revolving door. Inside, business carried on as usual. A handful of office workers were waiting for the elevator, and a security guard was sitting at the information desk.
“You think it was a prank call?” I asked her.
“Or whoever ran in here is already upstairs. Let’s take the stairs.”
“No, wait. Look at the stiff guard.”
We approached the desk, and I lowered my voice. “Sir, did you call in an armed entry?”
“Yes—third floor. He’s on the third floor. Black hoodie and a patch of silver hair.”
My best friend’s forehead creased.
“How many exits?”
“He took the south stairwell. North is closed off for renovations.”
I scanned the area. Two suits were standing by the elevator, along with a stressed woman who seemed in dire need of a vacation. More entered the front, followed by the homeless man in a black hoodie.
“Clear the area and stand at the front. Don’t let anyone else inside until they’re all out. Back up will be here soon,” I said, and followed Allie’s lead up the stairs.
We took the stairs two at a time all the way to the third floor. My chest compressed, my heart hammering and ears drumming with the sound of ticking time. Sweat dripped down my back. The nerves were new; they’d started when I returned to work after my short maternity leave, forcing me to leave my baby with Mrs. Brewers across the street. With motherhood came the additional need to survive for my son. While I was lucky to have a wonderful nanny, she was getting more kids, and Foxy was getting sick more often.
Allie grabbed my arm before I opened the stairwell door. “Laura, please be careful. My godson needs his mom home tonight.”
“Fifty percent more police officers died in line of duty this year than last.” The worry coasting over her eyes turned into fearlessness. “And since we’re not ready to be a statistic, you be careful as well.”
She punched me playfully on my arm, and I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “This could be your first bust.”
“Not if we keep standing here.”
Using her body, she pushed me aside and opened the stairwell door. I followed her down the hallway. After the second turn, a man entered an office. The door shut behind him, and Allie ran forward while I stood in the middle of the hall.
The black hoodie he was wearing was the same one as the homeless man’s.
