Chapter 27
Mark’s hands are shaking so hard he can’t set down his umpteenth cup of coffee on his desk without spilling. He hates hearing Rebecca’s voice like that, when it spikes into rawness. Stuffing his laptop into his briefcase, he shoves out of his office into the corridor.
At the end of the hall, Derek’s light is still on. Through the interior window Mark sees Derek with his head lowered, speaking into the phone, lifting his jacket from the back of his Aeron.
Mark’s breath snags in his throat.
He withdraws into his office, closes the door, sits back down at his desk, pretending to review papers.
Hiding like a child.
A few moments later, Derek’s words come audible, the phone argument rising in pitch like the whine of an approaching car engine: “. . . root causes,” he is saying, “we need to identify root causes. I want immediate, actionable steps based on the forecasting . . .”
His shadow flickers by Mark’s office, his footsteps fading. Finally Mark hears the ding of the elevator arriving.
After a few seconds, Mark emerges like prey from a burrow, head craning, blinking into the fluorescents.
Down the same hall, following Derek’s footsteps on a delay, his mouth dry.
Bao-Bao has been skinned and Jackson has fallen off a ladder and Rebecca said something about a footprint.
Mark couldn’t clarify the details, but it all sounded ominous as hell.
It has been mounting, whatever this is. Lately, when he sees Rebecca’s name on his caller ID, dread stirs his gut as it had in those endless days after the miscarriage when he’d felt his cortisol spike every time the phone rang.
He rides the elevator down in silence, nervously knocking his briefcase against the side of his thigh. When the doors peel open, he spots Derek’s Porsche whipping past and he flattens himself against the elevator buttons to hide from view.
His face burns. The family pet has been killed and his wife is terrified and here he is, hiding from his boss in an elevator.
The 911 gives a throaty roar as it banks up the ramp. From Derek’s braggadocio, Mark knows that the engine is 518 horsepower, the model a GT3 RS.
It whips out of view, and Mark scurries from the elevator to his car.