Chapter 34
DEXTER
Tired, I drop onto the office couch by the window and fabric samples crunch under my ass. Jeez. I yank them out. Figures. Holly sat here the other day, looked around, and said my office could use a tune-up. She suggested the couch would look better redone in slate blue. Or textured olive.
I told her I like my leather couch in graphite, nearly black in low light.
She made me feel that weird textured stuff because “Texture is everything, Dexter. You have too many clean lines, it’s starting to feel too symmetrical.
Boring. Let one thing be a little off.” She pointed at the wall behind my desk and told me it deserved a bold piece of art.
Something by Josephine Ashford. Something that says more than workaholic.
She even tapped the end table, told me it was calling for a plant.
“Don’t worry, I’ll pick one that survives supervision. ”
I told her it’s fine the way it is.
She smirked. “If you change your mind, you know who to call,” and left the stack of swatches right where I’d see (or sit on) them.
I flip through them one by one. Some aren’t bad. A couple might even work.
A sound outside my office door pulls me out of it.
It’s close to midnight. Who the hell is still here at this hour?
I get up, move quietly, and pull it open.
No one’s there. Just the faint sound of someone working down the hall.
Could be one of the tech guys. Could be cleaning crew. Hard to tell, but I am left wondering who was just here.
I head that way, past Reed’s empty office, just to check.
Sure enough, it’s one of the usual techs bent over the servers. He glances up immediately, and gives me a quick nod. I nod back and turn for my office.
The second I step inside, I stop cold.
Keith is just turning away from my desk.
He spots me, and a grin slides into place. “Still at it, are ye? Just popped by to say I’m headin’ away.”
“Yeah, wrapping a few things up.”
“Brought the site prints meself. Thought you’d want a look first thing.”
My eyes drop to the desk. “Good night, Keith.”
“Just makin’ sure you’re not settlin’ in for the night. Get yourself home, yeah? I’ll see ye in the mornin’.” He walks past me, claps my shoulder. “I mean it. If I come in tomorrow and you’re still here, we’re havin’ strong words.”