The Stories of the Wild One (continued)

At first, John thought this officer might be, once again, one of the pair that he had encountered at the discovery of the other two deaths. Seeing that he had John’s attention, he opened his notebook and started in without any introduction or preamble. John thought that maybe he had spoken to Smith earlier. His memories of the evening were starting to get a bit jumbled.

“You were the person who found the body?”

John nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you know about what time?”

John thought about that. The security recordings would probably show that, but that would mean calling Benton and asking him to check them. Instead, he performed some quick mental calculations, wishing that he had thought to check his watch at the time.

“Probably around ten forty-five.”

“Around?” The officer sounded irritated.

John’s cheeks prickled with sudden warmth. He shrugged apologetically.

Smith shook his head and entered a note.

“What were you doing in this area?”

John stared at the officer for a moment, slightly dumbfounded.

“I was patrolling it,” he replied, trying to keep his voice even.

“Is this your usual assignment?”

John frowned at the officer. He had already answered some of these questions with two of the other officers.

If he’s hoping to check me in a lie, John wondered. Then he’s in for a disappointment.

“No,” John answered. This seemed to get the officer’s attention. “I rotate assignments, as needed.”

The officer nodded and entered something onto his notebook.

“Did you know the victim?”

Victim? John hesitated for a moment. So they think it might be a murder?

“No.” He was unable to fully keep the annoyance out of his voice. What kind of stupid question is that?

Smith made another note.

“Do you—“

The other officer strode up and handed Smith a sheet of paper.

“We have a positive ID,” Smith’s partner said. “Definitely an employee.”

Smith glanced over the sheet and then nodded.

“Do you want to take at her workspace?”

Smith did not seem particularly enthusiastic. “Sure,” he said, and then turned to John. “I’ll need you to take me there.”

He passed the sheet to John. John read it over. He noted the woman’s name: Leanna Hartford. He did not recognize it, but that did not surprise him. After only two visits here, he would have been surprised if he had remembered anyone’s name.

Well . . . he remembered. There was that brunette with the long hair and the legs to match.

He forced himself back to the present. The printout included the location of the woman’s office. John was pretty certain that he recognized the numbering convention, but checked the map anyway. He nearly groaned aloud with the realization that it was in a building on the opposite side of the main lobby. That meant yet another long trek across the complex.

Either Smith read his expression, or else also knew how far the walk would be.

“We’ll take the car,” he said.

John smiled at him in gratitude and looked toward the propped-open emergency doors. John saw the gray sky, discovering that the sun had started to rise. Employees—and construction crews, he realized—would be arriving soon. He and the officers might have their hands full trying to keep curious workers away from the area. He wondered idly how the company was going to explain it.

Not my problem, he concluded with a faint smile.

He followed Smith as he headed for the doors. They were still yards away when the two EMTs wheeled the stretcher past them. John looked ahead and saw the ambulance back up toward the doors.

“. . . or we can walk,” Smith remarked, and made a smooth turn toward the enclosed stairwell where John had originally entered this section of the building.

The two of them strode together in silence. Smith maintained a fairly quick pace. With his longer legs, John had little trouble trying to keep up.

“How long have you had this job, kid?” Smith asked him, surprising John with both the sudden interest and the break in the silence.

John bristled silently again, but let it pass.

“Almost a year.”

Smith nodded.

“Thinking of heading to the Academy?”

“Yes,” John replied, grinning as he walked.

“Good,” Smith said, sounding genuinely approving of the idea.

That was the last thing he said until they crossed the lobby. John glanced quickly at Benton, still seated behind the desk. Smith kept moving.

John used his badge to gain them access into the next building. Smith paused as the door closed behind them. John became aware of the hushed and subtle noises of people moving through the corridors. He looked around, seeing that he had been right: people were beginning to show up for work. He and Smith gathered quick, but curious glances.

“Where is it?” Smith asked him, seeming oblivious to the attention that there were getting.

John consulted the sheet of paper that he had forgotten he was holding. “Second floor.”

He looked down the walkway for access to a stairway. Ahead, he saw a bank of elevators. He did not want to suggest them, as he was afraid that doing so might make him appear weak in Smith’s eyes. Fortunately, the officer saw them and started walking toward them.

The small clumps of people gathered before two of the doors parted as they approached. The elevator car arrived and Smith entered it without looking around. John followed him inside. Those gathered outside the door seemed content to wait for the next one to arrive, so Smith tapped the button for second floor.

The ride was short, taking only few seconds. John felt a little foolish for taking the elevator for such a short ride, but he justified it to himself that it might have taken them even longer just to find the stairway.

They stepped into the pathway and John checked the signs, trying to make sense of them. The numbering scheme they presented matched the one on the map, but he could not determine which direction he needed to travel in order to reach the office belonging to the dead woman.

“This way,” he told Smith, heading toward the right, hoping that he was correct. Smith followed him without question, which John feel a little better. He was certain that the officer would have corrected him had he been wrong.

Unless he doesn’t have a clue either . . .

They passed three long sets of opaque glass doors. John was relieved to see that the numbers associated with them decreased, as he wanted them to. He paused outside another door. This one had translucent glass, and he could see that it led to another hallway. He swiped his badge over the security panel mounted next to it.

He heard a soft, but shrill beep. The small light indicator light switched from red to green and he heard the metallic sound of the lock disengaging. Pulling open the door, he held it open for Smith. The officer passed him without a word and continued inside. They both waited while John studied the map again.

“Down that way.” John pointed to a branching row of cubicles on their right. “And then the second row on the right, almost at the end.”

I hope.

Smith peered across the bland fabric walls, apparently checking out the route. It took John a moment, and then he realized that Smith was expecting him to lead the way.