The door closes.
And I sit there, staring at three inches of compliance filings, in a monitored office, with a serial killer’s desk across from me. Cool. Cool cool cool. Very sustainable situation.
“I’m Linda,” a voice says from the doorway. An older woman, professional pantsuit, suspicious eyes. “Controller Ashford’s assistant. I’m right across the hall if you need anything.”
The way she says it makes it clear she’ll be watching. Making sure I don’t touch anything I shouldn’t.
“Thank you.” I try to smile. Try to seem normal. “I’m Dylan. From Draven & Associates.”
“I know who you are.” Flat. Not friendly. “Security monitors all offices, just so you know. Cameras in every corner. Everything logged.”
A warning. Or a threat. Maybe both.
“That’s good to know.” I keep the smile plastered on. “I’m just here to help with the transition. Administrative law, compliance filings. Nothing exciting.”
“Hmm.” She looks me up and down. Assessing. “Controller Ashford goes through contractors quickly. Had three last year alone.”
She’s trying to scare me off. We both know he just started with the new year.
“This is temporary,” I say. “Just the month.”
“That’s what they all say.” She turns to leave, then pauses. “My desk is right there. I see everyone who comes in or out. And I’ve been here twenty years. I know how things work in this building.”
She disappears back to her desk, but her door stays open. A clear line of sight.
A warning? A threat? An offer of alliance?
Alex would know. Alex can read people. Alex would have figured out in thirty seconds whether Linda’s on our side or his.
But Alex isn’t here.
I look down at the papers in my hands. Compliance filings. Administrative law. Work that will take hours.
The computer screen glows. The sticky note with login credentials mocks me.
Even if I wanted to snoop—even if I tried—he’s already told me there’s nothing to find. And Linda’s watching. And security’s recording.
Outside the window, Philadelphia continues. People walking. Cars driving. Life happening.
And I’m in a corner office on the third floor of City Hall with nowhere to run.
Thirty days.
I put the badge around my neck. My face stares back at me from the laminated plastic.
DYLAN WELLS. TEMPORARY CITY EMPLOYEE.
Temporary.
If I survive that long.
I open the first compliance filing and start to read.
Five
Headingto babysit for the weekend, be back Monday.
I stareat the words on the small notebook paper.
