“No, no, I have their personal numbers. I’m calling about another friend of mine, Madison Greene.”
“Ah.” Marlon’s friendliness evaporates.
“I know you take client privacy very seriously.”
“Yes,” he agrees in a careful tone.
“Marlon, I don’t want to compromise her privacy. All I’m looking for is some reassurance that Madison called you and made arrangements for security.”
“Yes, she called,” Marlon says. “I can’t give you any other details, though. It doesn’t matter how close you are with my bosses. If I shared a client’s info, they’d fire me faster than it would take for me to hang up this phone.”
I exhale in relief. At least she called Ironwood like she said she would. “Thank you, Marlon. That’s all I need. I’m just trying to make sure she’s safe.”
Marlon chuckles. “I understand. I’d do the same for my girl.”
“I appreciate it.” A loud beeping sounds in the background. I know an alarm when I hear it. “It sounds like you have something to deal with, so I’ll let you go. Take care?—”
“Wait!” Marlon’s shout almost causes me to drop the phone.
The alarm continues to beep, and a female voice starts talking loudly. She’s likely already on the phone with their client.
Marlon lowers his voice. “Mr. Romano, if you know this woman, you should go to her house. Right now.”
In the background, the alarm beeps with insidious insistence. I’m familiar enough with Ironwood’s system to guess what it means.
My lungs seize. This is exactly what I was trying to prevent. Madison is in danger.
I grip my phone tightly. “Can you share anything, any details?”
“I can’t, I’m sorry, sir.”
“Thanks, Marlon.” I hang up and run downstairs to Seth’s flat.
He answers his door quickly, an annoyed expression on his face. “If you want to complain about Mirarosa, I don’t want to hear about it?—”
“No.” I struggle to breathe, to talk, to think. “It’s Madison. Someone’s breaking into her house again.”
MADISON
My phone rings next to me—I see it light up rather than hear it over the deafening alarm. The word Ironwood blazes over the screen. I scramble to answer. “Yes?”
“Ms. Greene, this is Natalie with Ironwood Security.” She sounds calm and professional, which is not at all how I feel. “Did you set off your alarm?”
“No,” I whisper. “I’m in bed.” And I’m really fucking scared. I can’t sit here. I need to hide. I slide off the side of the bed, huddling on the floor.
“The police are on their way. I’m checking our video feeds right now.” A moment passes. Natalie continues, “Our feeds show that someone opened the back door. They ran off after the alarm sounded.”
Some of my panic eases. “So he’s gone?”
“Yes, ma’am, it appears so. However, we’d like you to meet with the police and allow them to do a walk-through, as the rear door is still open.”
“Yes, of course.” I force myself out from under my blankets and stand. I’m wearing a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. I throw on a hoodie as well, to fight the chill.
Red, white, and blue lights strobe through my bedroom window.
“The police are here,” I say.
“Excellent. They’re ahead of schedule. Would you like to stay on the line?”
