Chapter 18 #2
“What?” Instinctively, I shake my head. “It can’t be Greg.
He’s so nice. He always comes right away when I have a problem, and everyone in the building likes him…
” Trailing off, I realize my description of Greg is eerily similar to ones I’ve heard people give on true crime documentaries.
The ones where the regular guy turned out to be a serial killer, and all his neighbors can talk about is how nice he was.
“Rogue’s sure it’s him,” Micah says gently. “We’ve got a facial recognition program that can ID with ninety-five percent accuracy. The question isn’t if Haverford vandalized your things. It’s if he did the other stuff, as well.”
“And you’re going to go talk to him.”
Micah nods. “I am. Rogue and Houdini will go with me. But I need to be there, Rue.” He stops.
“I’m going to be honest with you. If I have to use some unconventional methods to get the information I need, I will.
Because this is personal. Someone tried to kill you.
Whatever it takes to keep you safe, I’ll do it. ”
“But—”
He frames my face with his hands and holds my gaze. “I won’t get hurt, Ruby. I promise. And I won’t get in trouble. We’ll be very careful.”
But Micah said he’d be fine the last time. And he was almost blown up. “You can’t know that,” I argue. “Last time—”
“Last time I wasn’t careful enough,” Micah replies.
“That’s on me. But this time, we’ll be prepared.
Plus, this guy has no idea we’re onto him.
” He strokes his finger across my forehead.
“It’s going to be okay. Before you know it, I’ll be back home.
We’ll have the information we need to put this guy away.
And soon, you and I will be able to do all those things we talked about.
Trips and meeting your friends and museums and watching the tree lighting at Rockefeller Center.
Soon, this will all be over, and your life can go back to normal again. ”
“I just want you to be safe,” I reply stubbornly. All the rest fades in importance.
“I will be.” He lifts me onto his lap and kisses me. His gaze softens as it meets mine. “I won’t let anything happen. Not when I have you to come home to.”
So when do we get to meet this mysterious guy?
I haven’t had a chance to answer Jordan’s message when Kylie’s comes in.
Is he a felon or something? Is that why we haven’t met him yet?
Jordan texts again.
Is he one of those mimes we see in Central Park? Or the naked trombone player in Times Square?
I laugh as I type my response.
No. He’s not a felon. Or a mime. Or a naked trombone player.
Kylie jumps in.
I know! You’re dating the guy who lives above Jordan. The one who loves to do Irish dancing at two in the morning.
Some of the worry pressing down on my chest eases.
Jordan’s reply blinks onto my screen.
Ruby. If you start Irish dancing with that guy, I may have to rethink our friendship.
I try to imagine Micah dancing an Irish jig. Funnily enough, he looks good doing it.
Smiling at the mental image of Micah in a kilt, his muscular legs flexing as he moves, I reply to their messages.
No, I’m not dating the Irish dancer guy. I told you Micah was in the Army. And now he works for a security company. No trombones or miming involved.
As soon as I hit send, I start typing again.
You’ll meet him soon. Things have been crazy lately, but I think they’re finally slowing down. Hopefully in the next couple of weeks.
Assuming Greg is the one behind everything, that is. If Micah discovers Greg is innocent, who knows how much longer I’ll have to hide out here. Not that I want Greg to be guilty. But better him than some of the other options.
The three dots beside Jordan’s name blink for a few seconds.
Are you feeling better, Ruby? I can bring you over supplies if you need anything. I’ll mask up so you don’t get me sick.
Guilt stabs into me as I read her message. I’ve been coming up with excuse after excuse for not seeing Kylie and Jordan—first an important deadline, then a trip to Suffern to help Sylvia with the house, a weekend upstate with Micah, and most recently, an unfortunate bout with the flu.
I don’t like lying to my friends, but it’s safer than the truth.
F&F cleared Jordan, Kylie, and Grace last week, so it’s not that they’re a danger to me.
But if the person after me decides to go after one of my friends in a twisted attempt at getting back at me for surviving, or he thinks he can use one of them as leverage…
It’s just better to stay away from them for now.
After a few seconds’ thought, I reply to Jordan.
I’m feeling a lot better. And Micah’s been taking care of me. But thanks for offering!
Which is true. I am feeling better than I was when all of this started.
All my bruises have healed. My nightmares are much less frequent.
I haven’t had a panic attack since the one in the supply closet.
And I’ve had three virtual appointments with Mabel, the counselor Micah suggested, which have been really helpful.
So at least I’m not lying about everything, I reason. And when Kylie, Jordan, and Grace find out the real reason I kept them in the dark, they’ll understand. Plus, they’ll be so happy to see me with Micah instead of Liam, they’ll forgive anything.
Kylie starts typing, only to stop, then start typing again.
Sounds like you found a good one this time. Although I’m reserving final judgment until after I meet him.
I smile at the screen.
I really did find a good one this time.
While I wait for Jordan and Kylie’s responses, I turn my attention to my laptop, where my newest manuscript is waiting. I’ve been trying to concentrate on it for over an hour, but my mind keeps wandering. I keep thinking about Micah and worrying about all the terrible ways things could go wrong.
But he said he’s prepared, I remind myself. He has Rogue and Houdini with him. And fifty-something, pot-bellied Greg isn’t a match for Micah, let alone all three of them.
Unless Greg has his apartment wired with explosives, that is. Or he has a secret stash of weapons inside. I’ve seen enough movies to know there are plenty of ways for the underdog to come out victorious.
“Not this time,” I say to myself. “Micah’s going to be fine. Soon he’ll be home.”
On the floor beside the desk, Sampson lifts his head to look at me. His gaze is quizzical, like he’s trying to figure out if I’m talking to him.
Leaning down, I pat his head. “Sorry, Sampson. I was just talking to myself. I do that sometimes.”
He cocks his head as he studies me. His ears perk up. His tail swishes back and forth.
Treats? his gaze asks. Are you talking about treats?
Well, why not? “How about a treat?” I ask as I rise from my chair. “Since you’re such a good boy.”
Sampson hops to his feet. His tongue lolls out happily. “Come on,” I tell him as he falls into position beside me. “Let’s go get a treat.”
Just as we reach the kitchen, a piercing alarm blares.
I startle so badly, I drop my phone. Sampson freezes.
Glancing around the room, I try to figure out where the sound could be coming from. The oven? The smoke detector above the stovetop? One of the windows? The front door—
My heart stutters. The front door. Could someone have gotten inside?
I drop to my knees as I scrabble for my phone. I have the security app installed on it. If someone broke in, it would tell me.
My heart races so quickly I’m lightheaded from it. My fingers tremble.
The alarm keeps blaring. Belatedly, I notice a light in the far corner of the kitchen, just beneath the molding, flashing in rhythm with the still-blaring alarm.
Micah never mentioned lights in here. He never mentioned an alarm like this. He said it all works through the phone. That I’d get a notification if there was anything wrong.
But maybe he didn’t think I’d need to know about the lights. Maybe he forgot.
Sampson bumps my leg with his head. The fur all along his back is standing up. His ears are flicking back and forth, as if he’s trying to figure out where the awful noise is coming from.
Though I’m more than a little freaked, having Sampson here is comforting.
Before Micah left, he told Sampson to guard me, just like he does whenever he has to leave the condo.
“When I give Sampson the command to guard,” Micah explained, “he won’t leave your side.
If he senses a threat, he’ll warn you. And if you’re in danger, all you have to say is defend, and he’ll protect you. ”
Please, I silently beg, don’t make me have to give the command. Let this be a false alarm. Maybe I triggered something accidentally. Or… I don’t know. Anything other than a person inside the condo, intent on killing me.
Once I have my phone in hand, I hold my breath as I turn it over to look at the screen.
A beat later, my breath comes out in a relieved rush.
There are no security notifications. When I click into the app, the security system is still armed.
Which is great, except why is this awful alarm still going?
Gesturing at Sampson to follow me, I head into the living room. The alarm is just as loud in here. And in the upper left corner of the room, there’s another light flashing.
“What the—”
Then it hits me. The fire alarm. Not for the condo specifically, but somewhere in the building. When I was visiting Jordan one time, the fire alarm in her building went off, and while it wasn’t as loud as this one, the experience was similar.
On the heels of that realization, fear spikes again. Could there really be a fire?
It’s a fear I think most people who live in a skyscraper experience, because escaping from a fire is a lot different when you’re in a building with dozens of floors.
You can’t just run out the door or climb out a window.
Evacuating everyone could take hours. Depending on where you are in the building, you might be able to get out, or you might have to relocate to a different floor and wait for the fire to be extinguished.
At least you hope it can be.