Page 97 of The Fake Out

“You can lecture me later. Right now, I need help.”

“Where are you?”

“Oh, hold on.” I was met with the sound of rustling and heavy breathing for a long moment. “That was close.”

“Ali.”

“Okay, fine. No yelling.”

“No promises.”

“I’m at City Hall.”

I pulled my phone from my ear to check the time. “It’s after seven p.m. Isn’t it closed?”

“I’ll explain later. Just come get me.”

“Where are you exactly?”

“That’s the thing…”

“Ali!” I repeated, but louder. “Spill it.”

“Fine. I’m hiding in the closet in Peter’s office.”

“What did you do?” My mind began racing with visions of ostriches, water balloons, and shaving cream.

“There’s another thing. Peter just came back to his office and—”

That’s when her phone died.

FORTY-THREE

A man once told me, “I want to lick you, stick you, and send you first class.”

He thought he was being charming.

—MARTA L.

“What’s the plan again?” Chris asked as we parked two blocks over from City Hall. It was located in the thick of downtown and given the time, locked up tight.

“Distract Peter, get Ali.”

“That’s not a very detailed plan,” Chris said as we began walking to our destination. “Shouldn’t we at least be wearing black?”

“We aren’t ninjas. Ali’s Uncle Joe is on the way, and he at least has keys to the building. We’ll figure it out when he gets here.”

Joe worked as head of the city maintenance department and was accustomed to the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy required to be part of Ali’s circle of friends and family.

“What do you think she did?” Chris asked as we passed window after window of antique shops and boutiques locked up for the night.

“I have no idea.” We paused at a corner that allowed us a view of the building.

The hall was a one-story brick building, circa 1960. It was U-shaped with a courtyard in the middle and a few benches. The front of the building was, unfortunately for us, made entirely of windows, so there was no sneaking up on this place. The main lobby had security lights (and probably a camera or two) but most of what we could see was shrouded in darkness except for a hallway toward the back where a faint light was shining.

“It could be almost anything. Two weeks ago, Peter came to the library to tell me someone had wedged raw chicken in the back of the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet. It took at least a week to find it. Blamed it on Ali.”

From all accounts, the smell had been so awful they’d had to clear out that wing of the building for the day to get it aired out and cleaned up.