Chapter Ten
Olivia silenced her phone as Lincoln pulled to the curb of the street that ran behind Zoe’s office.
Darkness fell over the vehicle as it slid into the shadow of a mature oak.
They faced the rear of the complex. The buildings were one story tall, with four offices in each strip.
A dumpster sat next to each rear door. The middle units faced a parking lot to the east. The offices on either end pointed north and south. Zoe rented the southern unit.
Lincoln studied the buildings through a pair of binoculars. “There’s a single camera in the parking lot and one over the front door.” He lowered the binoculars. “Is there a security system?”
“There’s a panel in the hallway. I’ve been in Zoe’s studio dozens of times, and I’ve never seen her use it.
” Olivia scanned the southern parking lot and spotted the camera mounted on a streetlamp above a small solar-power panel.
“It doesn’t seem as if the parking lot camera will capture us if we stick close to the wall. ”
“No.” Lincoln turned off the interior vehicle light, opened his door, and stepped out.
Olivia followed, taking care to close her door softly rather than slam it.
They crossed three yards of grass and paused.
A narrow expanse of asphalt—wide enough for a delivery or waste management vehicle—extended between them and the office complex.
As they approached the edge of the tree’s shadow, he held up a hand and stopped. Lifting the binoculars, he scanned the dumpster and recycling bins lined up along the back of the building. “Looks clear.”
Lincoln wore sneakers, jeans, and a zip-up sweat jacket. He lifted the hood over his head, shadowing his face. Olivia wore black yoga pants and a matching slim jacket, also with a hood, which she also drew over her head. She’d added block-heeled boots because she liked them, and why not match?
They jogged across the pavement and onto the concrete walkway that ran around the perimeter of the building. Sticking close to the brick exterior, they approached the rear door. “I don’t see a camera back here. Not a very secure building.”
“She chose it because the rent is cheap.”
“You get what you pay for.” Lincoln jogged to the rear door. He pulled a slim leather case from his pocket, removed two slim tools, and crouched. He closed his eyes and twisted and finessed the tools for a few seconds until the door clicked. “Got it.”
“That was fast.”
“Not much of a lock.” He opened the door.
The back entrance led into a narrow hallway.
Olivia closed the door behind them. She held her breath, waiting for a beep that would indicate the office had a security system.
But the office remained quiet except for the hum of the watercooler.
She exhaled and squinted into the darkness.
The air smelled of dust and burned coffee.
Lincoln used a small flashlight to examine the edges of the door.
He shone his light on a small magnet in a plastic mount on the doorframe.
His light traced the wire from the contact to the corner of the molding, where it dangled, the end cut and frayed.
Whatever security system used to be in place was no longer functioning.
Olivia nodded. Even though the office was empty, she inexplicably wanted to stay quiet.
Apparently, so did Lincoln. He waved her forward.
As they crept down the hallway, Olivia fished her own penlight from a jacket pocket.
She didn’t want to turn on the overhead lights and potentially draw attention from a passing police patrol vehicle.
Four doors opened off the main hallway. The two offices were on the right, the studio and kitchenette on the left.
Lincoln leaned close and spoke softly in her ear. “Which door is Zoe’s office?”
Olivia gestured to the door to their right.
Lincoln stepped over the threshold. Something rustled.
Olivia froze. In front of her, Lincoln’s body tensed.
Before either of them could react, a dark shape hurtled toward them.
Olivia jumped backward on reflex. Lincoln did the same but had less room to maneuver in the doorway.
The shape seemed male—and also familiar—for the split-second glance Olivia managed before the man ducked and drilled a shoulder into Lincoln’s midsection.
Lincoln twisted as his assailant made contact, minimizing the impact.
His flashlight went flying, landing on the linoleum floor and rolling under the desk.
The assailant wrapped his arms around Lincoln’s torso. Lincoln hammered both fists into the back of the man’s shoulders. Momentum carried the men into the hallway. They crashed into the opposite wall. Lincoln took the brunt of the impact, his body deflating with a hard exhalation.
Frantic, Olivia searched the office for a potential weapon.
There must be something here she could use.
Her penlight glimmered on an acrylic podcast award on the corner of Zoe’s desk.
Dropping the light, she snatched up the award.
It was shaped like an obelisk. About the size of a bowling pin, it had enough heft to do the job.
Spinning on one heel, she lunged into the hallway.
The men were still locked in a fighting embrace like boxers, with Lincoln’s back pressed into the wall.
Lincoln had recovered his wind. His attacker bent low into a tackle position and jammed his left shoulder into Lincoln’s rib cage.
His right fist drew back, prepared to deliver an uppercut to Lincoln’s kidney.
Lincoln hammered the back of his opponent’s neck, forcing him downward a few inches.
Then he wrapped one arm around the back of his neck, sliding his hand and forearm across the man’s windpipe and trapping him in a headlock.
He jerked upright, knocking the attacker off kilter and taking the force out of his kidney punch.
But having his back to the wall limited Lincoln’s mobility and his ability to shift backward and use additional leverage to increase the pressure of his forearm into his assailant’s throat.
Lincoln took a small step sideways and turned.
Freeing up a small amount of space between his body and his attacker’s, he drove a knee into the man’s belly.
The man continued to pound Lincoln’s flank with short punches.
A few years before, Lincoln had been stabbed in the abdomen, and as much as he pretended to be 100 percent recovered, Olivia knew the area around the scar would always be his Achilles’ heel.
Momentum—and fury—propelled her into the hallway.
Using both hands, she lifted the acrylic obelisk and brought it down on the only target available to her: the middle of the man’s back, right between his shoulder blades.
He sagged. She lifted the award high and hit him again. Grunting, he released Lincoln.
His body jerked backward. He twisted and sent an elbow over his shoulder at Olivia’s face.
She turned her face away just in time, the blow glancing off her cheek with a sharp burst of pain.
Lights flashed in her vision like a kaleidoscope.
The impact drove her sideways. She stumbled and dropped the award, then flung out her free hand to catch her balance on the wall.
The obelisk miraculously missed her toe and bounced into the baseboard.
Her palm landed on the cool wallboard with a thud.
She gave her head a shake to clear it. Adrenaline quickly numbed her face.
Thank goodness she’d turned away. A direct blow could have knocked her out.
“Keep your hands off her!” Recovering, Lincoln staggered forward.
The man turned back to Lincoln to reengage, and Olivia got her first glimpse of the intruder’s face in the red glow of the exit sign. The bandanna across his nose and mouth chilled her blood. Even in the dim light, she recognized the eyes of the man who’d accosted her that afternoon.
“You!” she gasped.
He glared back at her and growled, “Bitch.”
Olivia lifted a knee and drove the block heel of her boot into the side of the man’s knee, using the same move as Nicki had earlier that day.
His leg buckled. He dropped to one knee.
Olivia lunged for the only weapon at hand, the award at the base of the wall.
Pushing off the floor with a gloved hand, the intruder ran, limping, for the rear door.
Panting, Lincoln started in pursuit. “Who’s the bitch now?”
The man shoved through the door with Lincoln at his heels. Olivia ran after them. She burst outside onto the concrete. She squinted into the darkness. An engine sounded. Where was Lincoln? A vehicle drove away.
“Lincoln?” she whispered, fear crawling through her belly.
Had the man had an accomplice? Had Lincoln been hurt? Or worse?
A shape emerged from the shadows. “Here.”
The breath left Olivia in a rush, leaving her dizzy for a few seconds. She inhaled a lungful of night air. Oxygen flooded her. Her head stilled. He walked toward her gingerly. One hand rubbed his side.
“Are you all right?” She stepped backward into the darkness of the building hallway.
Lincoln followed and closed the door. “I’m fine.”
“Do you think he’s coming back?” she asked.
“No, but I didn’t expect him to be here, so who knows? You OK?”
“Yes.”
Lincoln snorted. “No doubt we’ll both have some interesting bruises tomorrow. But it could have been worse. Did you recognize him?”
“Yes. His face was covered—again—so I can’t be completely certain, but I think that’s the same man who tried to steal my purse.”
“So, it definitely wasn’t a random mugging attempt. He is either following you—though I didn’t spot a tail—or he’s looking for Zoe, same as us. Could it be Zoe’s husband?”
“No. The eyes are wrong,” Olivia said. “Do we call the police?”
“Not unless you’re prepared to explain how we discovered the break-in while we were breaking in.”
“No. I suppose not. Then what do we do?”