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If somebody offered me a key to rewind the clock a day or two and go back to boring, I’d jump at the chance. I’d even go out with Harold again if that would get me out of my current predicament.
Without that magic key, escape seemed my only alternative.
* * *
I’d beenat work an hour when I closed the spreadsheet and rubbed my eyes. Last night, the prospect of working with Adam had sounded dangerous. This morning, putting myself in the crosshairs of a killer seemed clearly a bad idea.
My brothers would all have more colorful ways of putting it, starting with something like I wasfucking stupid beyond belief.
After my talk with Ashley, it had seemed manageable because it was the right thing to do. But I’d overestimated myself. After a sleepless night remembering what I knew had happened to Melinda and what I imagined had happened to Daya Patel, I couldn’t handle the fear anymore. Now helping the FBI seemed both dangerous and unrealistic. How could I help if I couldn’t even function at work?
Leaving wouldn’t be so much running away as running to safety, running to my future. It was a future I wanted to be alive for next month and next year—a future where I was free to be predictably boring, or even change to almost slightly adventurous. Didn’t I deserve that much?
None of that would be possible if I stayed.
Sure, Adam could keep me safe for a month, maybe longer, but if we didn’t catch this guy right away, at some point, the Bureau would call Adam back, and by waiting us out, the killer would win in the end.
Somewhere in the building he could wait for months, or years maybe, to find the right time to cut my future short, the way he had Melinda’s. He would be in charge. He would decide the timing, and all I could do would be dread the end.
It didn’t have to play out that way, of course. I could leave the Smithsonian if I helped Adam but he wasn’t able to catch the guy. Then I could look over my shoulder forever, wondering if I’d made him mad enough to come after me when I settled down somewhere else.
Like Adam had said, if I left today, before the test, I wouldn’t pose a threat, and the killer would forget about me.
If I left today, I’d have to leave behind this job, but I didn’t have to go back to California and my family’s control. I could go to Chicago, or New York maybe, and still be far enough away to be comfortable. I’d been to Chicago once. It would be a good place to end up.
I smiled. A fresh start was the ticket. No killer stalking me—and a fresh batch of accountants to check out on SuperSingles would be a bonus.
“Kell.”
I flinched.
“You okay?” Kirby asked as I turned around.
I worked at a smile. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“How about a coffee run then? You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”
I bet I looked like I could use a dozen pick-me-ups. “Why not?”
When we got there, she took a minute choosing today’s poison, while I knew what I wanted and poured the hot water over my usual teabag.
The world was so fucking coffee-centric. There were coffee shops, coffee breaks, and even our mugs were called coffee cups. No love for us tea drinkers here. I’d tried the concoctions they poured in their cups a few times. Sumatran, Columbian, Kona roast—it was all mud to me. The British had it right, as far as I was concerned. Tea had coffee beat by a mile.
This morning she switched to Kona roast. “You need to get back on the horse after getting thrown, and a mid-week date is less pressure than a weekend one.” She was back to date counseling. “Change something, maybe your hair or your makeup. Be adventurous; break out of your normal routine. Kiss the guy, and see if the frog turns into a prince.”
I followed her back toward our corner of the building. “Maybe. But I’m not starting by switching to coffee.” And I definitely wasn’t kissing the frog.
“I’ll convince you sooner or later.”
Probably not, since I might soon be leaving for Chicago.
For the rest of the morning, I kept myself busy checking out job prospects in Chicago and a few alternative cities, just to be safe.
San Francisco had good opportunities, but was a little too close to the family.
Seattle seemed far enough away, but it rained too much for my taste.
New York and Chicago both had good possibilities. Manhattan would be exciting, but in the end I thought the windy city made more sense. If the killer considered coming after me, at least I’d be farther away than a short train ride on the Acela.
