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Cora shifted in the doorway, glancing around the room some more. The air felt clean and smelled fresh. An air purifier whirred beneath a window. The window was sealed shut. A small note had been postedonthe window. She approached, frowning.
In big, black marker someone had written,DO NOT OPEN.
She glanced back towards the lump on the bed. In a way, the man was a prisoner in his own home. She moved softly, on the balls of her feet. The mayor’s phone was charging on the nightstand next to the small sound machine. She approached this, cautiously pausing by the bed, and listened.
His breathing remained the same, no change in the pattern.
She took the phone in her hand.
It was also somewhat warm. She slid her finger up it. It required a passcode...or a biometric scan.
She glanced at the phone, at the sleeping mayor, then back at the phone again.
Then she reached a decision. A thumbprint would work fine. She reached for the covers, looking for the man’s finger.
As she moved the covers, her heart picked up its pace. She winced and froze in place, fingers latched into his blanket as the man shifted, let out a long sigh, and turned towards her. The visor remained affixed. The earbuds in place.
Cautiously, she reached out, peeling the blanket back. The man’s hands were delicate, soft things. The hands of a lifetime politician—a speaker. These were not the fingers of a laborer, nor the palms of a person accustomed to heavy weaponry.
She lowered the phone, his hand warm against her fingertips as she guided the thumb towards the scanner. Beneath the covers, the mayor wore silk pajamas with his initials stenciled in gold on each lapel.
He shifted again as his finger touched the scanner. She hastily lifted the phone, dropped his hand, and stepped back.
The background changed. The phone was unlocked.
She felt a flicker of excitement but calmed herself. She still had to keep her breathing in check and her ears attentive, so she could discern any sounds over the chirping from the noise machine. The halls remained clear. No shouts from below. The guard in the bathroom hadn’t been discovered yet.
But she was on borrowed time, and she knew it.
She scanned through the phone’s contents, swiping towards the most recent calls. A couple of unlisted ones. These she paid closer attention to. In his messages, there were two cryptic texts from one of the unlisted numbers.
One text simply said.You know.
The second, from the same number, which the mayor hadn’t replied to, said,Consequences.
You know. Consequences.
Not exactly a riveting tone. She frowned and memorized the number. Cora had a mind for numbers: license plates, phone numbers, and bank accounts. It was one of the little skills that had endeared her to infiltration teams back in the Navy.
It was also what had helped her closure rate back at the FBI.
But now, out here, on her own...
Things weren’t so very different. Though she did miss Agent Brady. She simply hadn’t conjured the courage to contact her old partner.
As she cycled through the phone to his email, she heard a faint sound.
She glanced up, her cheeks prickling.
Two eyes stared out at her in the night. She stared back.
Mayor Castillo had perked up, propping on his pillow, one hand raised where it had removed his sleeping visor. Now his eyes bugged as he stared directly at her, opened his mouth, and closed it again. And then looked ready to scream.
So, she lunged.
Fast, no hesitation. She flung herself across the man, hand clapped to his lips, finger to his neck. She pressed the finger against his throat. In the panic, he wouldn’t discern the difference between a digit and a knife. At least, so went the theory.
“Quiet,” she whispered fiercely.
