The Pentagon Paradox

Chapter Twenty-Two

ADELINE

"Wait here; I will get something real quick," I tell Greyson as I get out of the car. We arrived at The Capital an hour ago, but instead of dropping him off and going back to my hotel, I decided I was going to pick up a few things from my apartment building in the far north of Washington.

Yes, my apartment is very far from all the governmental institutions that tend to be focused in central Washington. Yes, I wasn't in the right mind when I decided I would live here, but I inherited this place from my grandma. No, I never met my grandma, but I heard she had an apartment here, and now I am using it. Hence, most of the residents in the building are old people.

I walk through the metal gate and up the stairs to the fourth floor. The elevator has been broken since 2007. Not because of a lack of funds or anything, but according to Samantha, my next-door neighbor, that elevator was only used by suicidal teens and newcomers.

Either way, no one liked that gravity-defying metal box. I unlock the door to my apartment and walk into the familiar scent of home and...

Well, dust. Eff, what is that smell? I wave my hand in front of my nose in an attempt to chase the smell away as I head down the small corridor and into the living room. I opened the window and let the cold winter breeze in.

My eyes found my car parked outside, and I remember leaving ledger waiting. I better hurry up. I head to my bedroom, where my desk is. Once I step into the room, my eyes land on the round mirror with the golden frame.

What in the world?

My entire being goes still as my brain registers the sight in front of me. I turn my head ever so slowly to check if the room is empty. The dusty floor and stuffiness of the room make it seem like no one has been here for weeks, which is true, but what I just saw says otherwise.

I carefully step closer, my shoes leaving prints on the dusty floor. I reach to touch the red words written on my mirror. "See what happens if you go on."

A threat. A clear threat. I wipe off a bit of the dripping red liquid and spread it on the back of my hand. Could this be blood? Human blood? Animal blood? Paint? It is not dry. It is fresh. Why is it fresh? How is it fresh?

A shiver runs down my spine, and I can feel my heart sink. All alarms go off in my head. Blood only requires 30 minutes to dry on non-porous surfaces. This is not dry. This is not dry.

My lungs stop working along with my heart as I turn around. My eyes dart around the room. The couch and the wardrobe touch the wall. No one can hide behind them. The window is shut from the inside. No one can get in or get out of there.

Dust covers all surfaces; there is no way someone was here less than an hour ago and left no prints. Something is completely wrong. logically, humanly, and scientifically wrong.

What if they are still here? I reach under my bed and take out a wooden box. The box is plain, but it is hard to open without a key. Just like how my password is four zeros, the key to my most dangerous possession is hanging in my keychain alongside all my other keys.

One would think I am too stupid for a detective, but that is the entire point. People won't imagine how simple I could be, especially a thief. They would suggest harder options and complicated hiding spots first before they considered the classics, like my password.

The fact that Greyson found it out right away is evidence of how pathetic he thinks I am. I unlock the box and take out the gun. I never imagined myself holding such a weapon, but it was an essential part of my training.