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Len, one of the building guards, stopped outside my cubicle. “Kelly, how about lunch today?”
This had to be the fourth time he’d asked.
I let him down easy, hoping he’d get the hint at some point. “I can’t today. Thanks for asking, though.”
Shortly before lunch, my boss, Mr. Heiden, called both Kirby and me to his office. “We have a candidate down in HR coming in to interview. I’d appreciate it if you two could take her to lunch and give me your impressions after you hand her off to Todd. I’ll wrap it up after that.”
Kirby looked at me and nodded. “Sounds good.”
It was a bad idea to turn down something our boss said he wanted.
“Sure,” I agreed.
Kirby deserved my support. Also, at least now I had a solid alibi for not having lunch with Len.
“How’s your mother doing?” I asked Mr. Heiden now that business was out of the way.
His face didn’t show his normal enthusiasm. “About the same. The doctors are recommending another new drug and something they call proton therapy. Thanks for asking.”
His mother had been diagnosed with advanced colorectal cancer about two years ago. Numerous treatments had each been successful, but only for a while before the disease adapted and re-attacked. Her situation took him out of the office occasionally, but even Krause wasn’t cold-hearted enough to complain about it, given the reason.
“What position is she applying for?” Kirby asked, getting us back to a lighter topic.
“Melinda’s,” Heiden answered.
I tried to keep my surprise from showing as we stood to go.
* * *
All during lunch,Tiffany Snow struck me as a terrific candidate.
She had good answers to Kirby’s questions, and she asked insightful ones about the job. She didn’t seem as averse to becoming a government employee as some people were. We were funded by Congress, so most of us got our paychecks from Uncle Sam.
With every glance at her, I was consumed by the specter that if I left, she could become a target. I ended up letting Kirby do most of the talking and not posing any questions of significance.
“Is something wrong with the salmon today?” Kirby asked.
“I’m just not very hungry,” I lied.
The real problem was my stomach. I felt ill sitting with these two, realizing one of them could end up being next to get a note when I left. One of them could be the next face on the news.
Kirby was a friend. How could I do that to her and live with myself?
I’d just met Tiffany, but now that I had, leaving became that much more difficult. If the killer had needed Melinda’s help, that would surely translate to Tiffany being on his list, since she was taking Melinda’s spot.
Warning them was out of the question, but I also couldn’t let them become targets. The situation was all fucked up.
Nausea welled up, and I stood. “I don’t feel well. Please excuse me.” Rushing to the bathroom, I had time to kneel before the little I’d eaten came up and decorated the toilet bowl.
After several dry heaves, I was rinsing my mouth at the sink when Kirby came in to check on me.
“Kell, can I get you anything?” she asked with the concern of the genuine friend she was—a friend I couldn’t leave at the mercy of a killer.
“No. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have touched those leftovers at breakfast. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ve got some Maalox back in my desk.”
“That would be great. Go back and finish up with Tiffany. I’ll just be a minute.”
