February 3rd, 7:45 AM
As he pulled his car into the lot and turned off the motor, he sighed, staring at himself in the rearview mirror. Since the close call at Ashley Purdy's house, his nerves had been nearly raw, and he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to hide the fact. While visiting his father the previous day, in fact, he had been forced to submit to being quizzed about his poor concentration and diminished appetite. Fortunately, he had been able to convince the old man that it was nothing more than job-related stress, but he wasn't as confident in his ability to persuade others, such as his brother, or certain of his office colleagues.
He forced himself to relax, drawing in several deep breaths, in a concerted effort to compose himself , and reminded himself that he genuinely enjoyed his job. Unlike his previous employment, this one provided him with the wherewithal, and the time, to accomplish his true calling: ridding the city of its dregs, in spite of the idiocy of the bleeding-heart social workers and the utterly useless judicial system, which insisted on pumping the junkies and whores back onto the street as if they were coming off of an assembly line. Since they didn't seem to feel the need to do what they had been elected to do, he had decided, it was up to him to see that these people didn't continue to be a drain on society. The discovery that he actually relished the task was, in his mind, simply a bonus.
Exiting the vehicle, he walked into the crowded building, occasionally exchanging casual greetings with co-workers as he strode through the halls to his office. He hoped for at least a few minutes to himself before a day of organizing files and searching through the internet, but to his dismay, his officemate had already arrived. The other man was already seated at his desk, a crumpled Burger King bag on the desktop, coffee mug in one hand, and a sausage Croissan'wich in the other, As he entered the room, his colleague spun in his chair, calling out, "Hey, buddy, how was your weekend?"
"Had a playoff game with the kids on Sunday, and visited with Dad yesterday," he answered. Then, despite an utter lack of interest in the answer, he inquired, "How about you?"
"Slept in, watched ESPN, had Sunday dinner with my sister and her husband, and did my damnedest not to think about work," was the reply. "But maybe it won't be all that bad, the boss just posted this week's schedule, and it looks pretty easy."
"I wouldn't say that if I were you," he replied, giving the man a small smile. "Because as soon as you do, it's sure as shit that something will go wrong." Approaching his desk, he glanced disinterestedly at the printout lying on the gleaming surface. He gave the words a cursory scan, but as actual meaning penetrated his mind, he focused his attention on the document, reading it carefully. As he did, he had to force himself not to smile, which might draw attention from the other man.
"Oh, things are definitely going to go wrong," he thought, as he looked over the paper yet again. "But not for me. This gives me all the time I need to find out what I need to know, and if I'm lucky, I can have this taken care of before the weekend."
****************************************************
8:30 AM
"Damn, you're fast with that!" Ashley remarked, as he lounged on the sofa in his pajama pants and a T shirt, watching Briar finish off the thumb of the glove that she had begun the night before. " You just started that a few hours ago, and you're already done! How long have you been doing this, anyway?"
"Our housekeeper taught me when I was about nine, and I've been doing it every since," she informed him. "This was actually one of the few things I did that wouldn't totally piss off my grandmother. I mean, she wouldn't have been caught dead wearing something homemade, of course, but it was always acceptable to steer me toward one of her groups of society matrons when they decided that they needed to make themselves look good by doing some charity work. I've made who knows how many baby blankets, hats, stuffed toys, et cetera, for different groups, so unless it's a new pattern, or complicated, I've gotten to where I can knock things out pretty quickly."
"Yeah, it's always nice to be able to use your talents to help people," he replied. "But it sounds kind of dumb to me that your grandma wouldn't want to wear something if you made it for her, mine would love something like that. The way I see it, if you're willing to put out the effort to make something for someone, it kind of shows what you think of them. After all, who's gonna waste their time and money making things for somebody they don't like?"
"That's true. I mean, my friend Wiley and his son both have several things that I've made for them. Hats, gloves, scarves, and they each got an afghan this past Christmas. So since we're friends now, if you're actually serious, I'll go grab my bag out of my room for you to look through, and if you can find a color you like, I'll make a pair of gloves for you, too."
Ashley cocked his head to one side, smiling, and said, "Yeah, I'm serious, if you really want to. Go ahead and get it, I'm sure I can find something."
Briar rose from her seat and walked down the hall to her room, and to the closet, where she had stored her bags. As she reached in for her duffle bag, she suddenly felt a slight breeze stirring her hair, and glanced around in confusion. Peering around the door into the room, she saw that the window was still securely fastened, and realized that even if it weren't, that it couldn't create a draft inside the enclosed closet.
Stepping fully into the boxlike space, she knelt down, running her hand along the baseboard, and felt nothing, so she stayed still for several seconds, waiting to see if it happened again. When she felt the air stir a second time, she scanned the area, and finally noticed that a square of the ceiling in the back corner was actually painted wood, instead of the same drywall that the rest of the enclosure was made from. Standing up, she held her hand near the spot, and when she felt the air moving again, she turned and walked rapidly to the hallway. Ashley's door had been closed, so she tapped on it, assuming that he was inside.
He opened the door, clad only in his jeans, shirt crumpled in one hand, and said, "I'll meet you in the living room in just a sec, and we can rummage through your yarn."
"Actually, Ash, I was wondering if you'd mind coming to my room for a minute?" she inquired. "I'd kinda like to show you something."
He looked at her curiously, arching an eyebrow, but when she stayed quiet, he tossed his shirt onto the bed and followed her across the hall. They entered Briar's room, and she led him to the closet, pointing toward the ceiling, and said, "I just noticed this when I came to get my stuff. What do you think it's there for?"
"I dunno, a crawlspace or something, I guess," he answered. "Why does it matter?"
"Because I can feel a draft through there, so it must open up to something."
When he heard this, he turned, walking to the bedside chair and picking it up. Carrying it into the closet, he climbed up to stand in the seat, and gave the wooden square an experimental push. When he found that it was loose, he moved it further, and poked his head up through the opening to look around. Briar stood just inside the door, watching as he worked himself further into the opening, finding herself somewhat distracted by the way the muscles played under the star-covered skin of his back and shoulders. But she was abruptly pulled from her thoughts by the sound of his voice from the other side of the opening.
"I'll be damned!" he exclaimed. "I think you actually found something interesting here, Tink. Come on up and see for yourself."
He wriggled free of the hole and hopped down from his perch, allowing her to take his place. She stepped into the chair and reached up, placing her hands on the edges of the opening, and lifting herself onto her toes in order to see what Ashley had found so fascinating. As her eyes adjusted to the minimal amount of light available in the low, narrow opening, she peered forward, and finally saw the outline of a hatchway in the roof of the building. The draft played through her hair again, even more strongly, making it obvious that it opened to the outdoors. Pulling herself further into the crawlspace, she determined that it indeed was large enough to contain two, or possibly even three people, if necessary.
She lowered herself back down to the chair, then hopped to the floor next to Ashley. "Since there's so much wind coming through, either that hatch doesn't fit right, or it's not completely closed. We should probably tell them about it, so somebody can get it fixed."
She turned to exit the closet, but Ashley put out his hand to stop her. "Hold up, Briar," he said. "Think about it for a sec. We've been here for almost a week, and nobody said a word about it to us. So, the way I see it, either they don't know it's there, or they don't want us to know."
"So I take it that you're saying that you think we should keep quiet about it, then?"
"For now, at least," he responded, gazing at her solemnly. "You can look at it as... our little secret, I guess."
She paused, considering his words as he continued to watch her expectantly. "Yeah, you're probably right. If they know about it at all, they probably don't want their 'guests' to be aware," she finally replied, forming quotation marks with her fingers as she spoke. "Since I'd hazard a guess that the majority of the people who stay here are actually involved in some kind of crime, that might be too much of a temptation to book."
"My thoughts exactly," he informed her. They then heard sounds coming from the front of the building, which normally indicated a shift change, and he continued, "So I guess we'd better grab that bag and head out there, before they start to wonder what we're up to in here."
She began to chuckle as she reached down to pick up the bag from the floor of the closet, saying, "Well, I don't know about whoever's taking over for day shift, but I'm reasonably sure that us climbing up through the closet ceiling wouldn't be the first thing to cross Danny's mind."
She moved out of the closet, and Ashley followed behind her, hoping that she didn't notice the blush that her comment had caused. They made their way back to the kitchen, and he nearly fell over Briar when she stopped short in front of him. He moved forward to stand next to her, observing the scowl that had settled onto her face, and he inquired, "Hey, what's wrong?"
"Great! Just the way I want to spend my day, trapped in here with that jackass," she growled, as she stared into the other room.
Ashley followed her gaze, and saw two men standing with Danny and Angie, listening as they gave their report. One was a tall, muscular, African-American with close-cropped hair, and his "security guard" uniform neatly pressed, who was perhaps in his late thirties, and the other was an older white man, somewhat rumpled in appearance, with a large mustache and a perpetually dour expression. "Which one are you talking about, Tink?" he asked.
"The older guy, his name is Weintraub," she muttered. "I went to the station once, to see if they'd made any progress on Sylvia's case, and the asshole acted like I was asking him to part the fucking Red Sea or something, like they had better things to do that try to figure out who killed my cousin, just because she was a 'street person', and not some big upstanding citizen, or whatever."
"Yeah, I can understand how you feel," Ashley responded, placing his hands on her shoulders and lightly rubbing the back of her neck with his thumbs. "But what we'll do is just ignore him, unless he starts something first. I've still got the card that Sanger gave me with his cell number in my wallet, and if this dude starts making an ass of himself, you better believe that I'll call him."
At that moment, Danny Belmont glanced up, waving them forward when he saw them in the kitchen. "Hey, you two, come and meet the new shift."
When they came forward, Danny indicated the larger man, and stated, "Ash, Briar, this is Detective Harris."
The detective extended his hand, shaking each of theirs in turn, and told them, "Just call me Keith while I'm here. It's nice to meet you, but unfortunate that it had to be under these circumstances."
They returned his greeting, and Danny then said, "And this is Detective Weintraub."
The older man gave them a nod, and muttered, "Howya doin'?", without offering his hand, which caused his partner to frown slightly.
Ashley responded in kind, with just a nod of acknowledgement, while Briar stated, "Yes, we've met," in an icy tone which actually caused a somewhat abashed expression to cross Weintraub's face.
Placing one hand on the small of her back, and taking the duffle bag with the other, Ashley began coaxing Briar toward the closest couch, saying, "Come on, let's sit down and find that yarn you were talking about. Then you can work on the gloves, and have something less stressful to think about."
She allowed him to lead her to the seat, muttering under her breath as she went, "Yeah, I guess it couldn't hurt. But I get the feeling that this is gonna be a very, very long day."