Ick.
Without Maggie’s usual chatter from her office, an unusual quiet and mystery hovered over us.
“What do you think happened to her?” Grant asked as we rode the elevator down together at the end of the day. “I looked up her phone number, but it went straight to voicemail.”
“It’s strange that she didn’t show up, I agree, but why are you so obsessed with her?” I asked.
“Come on, K. You’re just as titillated by her whereabouts.”
I looked over at him and his roguish smile and laughed. “Titillated by her whereabouts?This isn’t a murder mystery novel, and you most definitely aren’t a private eye or detective. She’s probably sick. Or some other emergency.”
“Then why didn’t she call in to inform anyone at work? Or answer her phone?”
I shook my head. “It’sweird, but it doesn’t mean anythingnefarious. Relax, Sherlock.”
The elevator doors opened, and a group of gossiping young women joined us. Grant eyed each one from head to toe. When he caught my eye, I made a gagging face and stuck my tongue out. He laughed out loud, the giggling girls turning to him, witnesses to his dazzling smile. I shot out of the elevator after the girls, racing to my car and away from any more of his Grant-ness.
The next morning,I walked into the office several hours late after not having fallen asleep until 4 AM. That had been happening a lot lately. If only Grant hadn’t brought it up so often, I would have gotten more sleep. My lack-of-sleep-middle-of-the-night ruminations had spiraled, and pretty soonI’d imagined she’d been kidnapped the day before on her way to work.
I woke up to a text from Grant saying Maggie wasn’t there that day either, so no one important had probably noticed. I texted him back, telling him I’d overslept.
Maggie gone for a second day?This was getting curiouser and curiouser. Could she really be in some sort of danger? A sinking feeling began to take hold. But what could I do?
While most people were heading to lunch, I turned on my computer and stood rifling through a couple of large envelopes left on my desk, impatiently waiting for the login screen.
One seemed to be a waste of my time, and as such, got its deserved place in my trash bin. The other was addressed to someone else—Colin Slade. Who the heck was that, and how could the mail kid get that name confused with mine?
"Is there any chance that's mine?" a voice asked behind me. I jumped and tried not to shriek, loudly sucking in air instead.
Behind me stood a man amused by my attempt, stepping closer with an easy, unhurried confidence that made the office suddenly feel smaller. He took a step closer as if the room belonged to him.
"Sorry," he said, raising his hands. "The mailroom said my papers had been delivered to the fourth floor. I've been around to everyone except you, since you just got here. I didn't want to rifle through your mail."
"That was a good idea, not going through someone else’s mail. Very smart. Colin Slade?" I shoved the envelope toward his chest, a little sharper than necessary, and immediately blamed the fact that my morning had already gone sideways. "All yours."
"Thank you. I can't understand why they'd bring it here. I'm on the ninth floor. And..." he glanced at my nameplate and said, "you’re the other Katelynn.”
My nameisKatelynn. I was born during the Kaitlyn/ Kaitlin/ Katelyn/ Kaitlynn/ Katelynn/ Caitlin, etc. boom, which I learned during my school years as people constantly misspelled my name. Now, at work, I still had to face off with two more of the bunch. Kaitlin Lafferty. And Caitlyn Cross. The second one was sweet as pie and had everyone call her CeCe. Miss Lafferty, however, seemed to find a rival in me as a K mutation of the name.
“Wrong. I’mtheKatelynn. The others aren’t real.” I was itching to log into the computer and search for Maggie’s official company profile.
Something akin to a snort or chuckle escaped Colin Slade, and I looked up at him.
Tall. Strikingly well put-together in his fitted suit. And now that I’d had a chance to inspect him…
“I’ve seen you before…” I started, then felt silly, because of course I’d seen him if we worked for the same company.
“Hi, Mr. Slade. I’m Grant Walker, Assistant Director of Accounts,” Grant said with a tone of voice I’d only ever heard him use around Maggie. He’d just come from the break room, and his hands were occupied with coffee and pastries. He quickly put them down and extended his hand to shake Colin’s.
Colin observed Grant for a beat, as if he weighing the decision, and finally accepted the handshake.
“I’m told Margaret hasn’t reached out to anyone. Have either of you heard anything?” Colin asked, his intensely blue eyes sliding back to me.
“Nothing here,” I replied, pulse picking up under his stare. He didn’t look away, studying me as if I might have the answer.
I still had no idea who he was, but it made little difference to me. He obviously thought he was hot stuff. For all we knew, he was a pretty boy with a dark heart who’d asked Margaret out and then kidnapped her. It’s possiblehehad her hidden in hisbasement somewhere.Damn Grant for enabling me to jump off the deep end about Maggie.
“You’ll let me know if you do?” Colin pointed to the name on the envelope I’d handed him earlier. “That’s me. I have an email address. I work for here—the Gordon Agency.”
