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The first thing she did when the door opened was sneeze. Loudly, painfully, three times in succession. The draft from her entrance sent dust motes tumbling down the hallway, captured by the gleam of light from outside.
It smelled musty, stale, and too damn hot.
Before the alarm started screaming, she keyed in the code.
There was no mail to gather; she’d done the smart thing and rerouted it to her mom’s house. Not that she ever got something exciting, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
Everything was exactly how she’d left it, down to the cereal bowl she’d used the morning she left. It was possibly classed as a science project now, what with all the green and icky mold growing on it. Was itmoving?
With a wince of disgust, she picked it up as though germ gremlins might crawl up her arm and infect her with syphilis born of her own laziness. Stomping her foot on the pedal of the kitchen trash bin, she almost retched. Maybe she should’ve made time to take the trash out.
The bowl dropped into the can without hesitation.
In all honesty, she should’ve booked a room at the nearest motel for the night, but she wasn’t sure the cheapest one she could afford wouldn’t be as grungy—if not dirtier—as her own home. At least here, her own security system was sufficient enough to keep her safe; a flimsy wooden door with a weak lock and short chain didn’t offer a good night’ sleep.
Tomorrow, setting her life back on track was her top priority…
After cleaning, she amended silently.
Without hunting through the cupboards or taking a peek in the refrigerator—why bother when it was probably just full of another species of mold capable of resisting a nuclear bomb?—she left the kitchen behind and walked down the hall, stifling another round of sneezing.
The pictures on the walls were coated in dust, but seeing them again was like saying hello to old friends, ones she hadn’t seen in too long. There were a few of her with her mom, but mainly they were just prints she’d found and liked in thrift stores.
A little silent company for a woman who didn’t have friends outside work, or really socialize with the coworkers she got along with. Dating was completely off the agenda after she’d seen her mother’s relationship with Jared deteriorate.
Her computer was her best friend.
It was pathetic, really, but she didn’t know how to change it. Truthfully, did she even want to? The outside world and the people in it were unknown entities, and she knew from experience that a high percentage of the population was hostile.
The last two years had shown her how selfish people were, how strained the system keeping everyone alive had become. As a research tech for Heisler Security, she delved into the records of despicably bad men, so she wasn’t naïve about what went on, but it was a different story to be out there with them.
Teenagers with guns and knives. Men with bombs.
She’d rather keep her head down and away from nasty projectiles.
Ugh, that reminded her. Patting her jeans for her phone, she pulled it out and pressed speed dial one. Pushing open the door to her bedroom as it rang, she wrinkled her nose at the smell. Dank, damp. Worse than in the kitchen.
“Sonic!” Her boss’s gravelly tone resonated with concern. “Is everything okay?”
“Ah… yes, sir.” No, not really. She hadn’t kept him in the loop for over a month, which he wasn’t going to be pleased about. “I just thought you should know I’m back on home turf. I’ll be in the office first thing.”
Deadly, heavy silence.
Yes, not impressed, she thought with a grimace.
“Back in Phoenix?” he demanded.
“Home, sir.”
What sounded like a coffee mug thudded onto a wooden surface. “That shithole?”
Olivia’s brows drew together. It might not be much, but her home was her everything. She’d bought it cheap with her first year’s earnings as his employee, making improvements as she struggled to squirrel away funds for a rainy day.
Her savings were gone now, eaten up by her mom’s medical bills because Jared was a lazy bastard who did low-energy jobs for cash, then spent it on beer and weed. Her monthly paychecks from Atticus since she’d left were in the same ginormous money pit.
“I’m sending someone over for you. That place isn’t fit to stay in, Olivia.”
Ah shit, he was using her given name. Everyone in the office knew that Sunday names were bad if they were trusted enough to have handles. “H-How would you know, Atticus?”
