A Colby Christmas. Debra Webb
God.
This was totally weird.
She stepped into the stairwell, let the door close behind her with a distinct click. Like most people she preferred the elevators so she’d only been in the stairwell once or twice. Both times for a fire drill.
Even with the emergency lights the gloom gave her the shivers. Layers of beige paint on the walls, railing and stairs didn’t help. No windows. She shivered. Damned creepy at this time of night.
This whole power outage thing had spooked her unreasonably. She left the office after dark most of the winter. What was the problem here? She shook off the lingering feelings of foreboding. All she had to do was go downstairs and locate Joseph or the other guard. Service to the phone on the security desk may have been disrupted with the power outage.
Grasping the rail to steady herself, she moved down the stairs. No need to get in a hurry. Now would not be a good time to fall and break something. She might not be discovered until morning. Ian Michaels and several of the other investigators all took the stairs on a regular basis.
Third floor. She wondered vaguely as she passed if that door was locked as well. That part still puzzled her. What good was an emergency exit if it were locked?
Other than the tap of her boot heels, the stairwell was eerily quiet. But then it would be. Every single soul who worked on the premises other than she and the two security guards had likely gone home already.
She was never in that big of a hurry to leave work. It was just her and her tiny apartment. No one waited for her, not even a dog or cat. She’d thought about getting one but then she’d worry that if she had to stay late at the office the animal would be alone too much. Her evenings usually consisted of going home, heating up a frozen dinner in the microwave and then getting lost in a movie. Horror, action, comedies, she liked them all. Once in a while her neighbor invited her out to dinner, but they really didn’t have that much in common.
And dating. Well that was a joke. The closest thing she’d had to a date recently was when the guy at the video store had asked her to hang around to have coffee with him on his break. That hadn’t lasted beyond his fifteen-minute break.
Second floor. Still quiet as a tomb.
Not that she was feeling sorry for herself. She liked her life just as it was. No dramatics, no extra pressure. Just plenty of time to enjoy being who she was.
One of the new guys hired in last spring’s job fair had flirted with her at first. Todd Thompson. But he’d ended up marrying his first assignment. Most of the other investigators considered her their little sister or something. They sure didn’t look at her with an eye toward dating.
Definitely not.
It wasn’t that she was hideous to look at or anything like that. She was thin, without really trying. She actually looked younger than her twenty-six years. She wouldn’t likely be winning any beauty contests, but she had a nice face. Big brown eyes. That was the part about herself she liked best. Not that she dwelled on how she looked. She didn’t. She didn’t waste money on designer clothes, either. She shopped at the more reasonably priced discount stores, which ensured she had a healthy savings.
Maybe she’d take an exotic vacation one of these days.
Maui, Cancun, someplace warm with sandy beaches.
When she reached the door that would open into the wide corridor that led into the first-floor main lobby she found it locked as well.
This was too weird. First thing Monday morning she would call maintenance and have this situation looked into. If that didn’t take care of the problem she would call the fire marshal. What if she hadn’t had the keys and there had been a fire?
The building could go up in flames and she wouldn’t be able to get out. Definitely against the rules. Someone would be in serious trouble.
She shuddered as she twisted the key in the lock. A person never thought of things like that until they were thrust into the situation.
Beige décor gave way to marbled floors and soaring ceilings as she followed the short corridor that spilled into the main lobby. The ambience was every bit as posh as one would expect in a building with such elite tenants.
The lighting wasn’t much better down here. The higher ceilings and towering glass front entry provided some additional illumination from the city lights.
Her heels clicked on the marble as she crossed the massive space. Even down here it was graveyard silent.
Bizarre.
The security desk was unmanned.
No sign of the musicians for tomorrow’s entertainment. Or their cases of equipment.
Maybe Joseph had escorted the gentlemen to the freight elevator already. But where was the other guard? And, considering they couldn’t board the elevator, why hadn’t Joseph returned? Then again, maybe the musicians were stuck on the elevator and Joseph was trying to help.
Still, leaving the security desk unmanned was completely unprofessional. Victoria would be extremely disappointed that security turned so lax after hours.
Admittedly Elaine had never stayed quite this late, but she’d never known security to just disappear.
Something had to be wrong.
Calling 911 might be overreacting but she wasn’t about to pretend any longer that things were as they should be. She’d run out of excuses.
Elaine moved around to the back of the security desk. Her foot caught on the same object her gaze had landed on the instant she rounded the corner of the desk, only her brain hadn’t accepted the analysis just yet.
Joseph.
A scream rushed into her throat but fear had clamped shut the muscles in her neck.
Her body trembling, she lowered into a crouch and touched him. A dark stain had spread out from a small hole in the center of his chest. The navy color of the uniform distorted the color but she knew it was blood.
He’d been shot.
A surge of air rushed into her lungs, forcing her heart to race. Some part of her screamed at her to cry out for help, but some other part, a deeply entrenched instinct she hadn’t known existed until now, kept her silent.
Her fingers shaking, she touched his neck. No pulse. His skin was too cool. Was his heart still beating? No heartbeat.
She got into position for CPR, except she couldn’t feel any breath on her cheek. No rise and fall of his chest.
Tilting his head back, she opened his mouth, ensured the airway was unobstructed and forced air into his mouth. Something was wrong. The lungs didn’t expand…chest didn’t rise. She tried again. Nothing.
Oh, God.
She moved into position over his chest and attempted compressions. She worked until her arms were so weak she couldn’t press anymore.
He was dead.
She had to call for help. She should have done that first. But she’d panicked.
Her phone. Where was her cell?
She’d had it in her hand.
She must have dropped it when she found Joseph.
But where was it?
Pressing her cheek to the floor she peered under the security desk. There it was. She couldn’t reach it, needed something to reach under there and drag it out.
Maybe the phones down here worked.
She scrambled to her feet, almost tripping over Joseph’s body. Grabbing the phone, she pushed a button for an outside line but got no dial tone. She stabbed another one. Nothing.
Fear roared through her.
What the hell was wrong with the phone?
She poked buttons until she’d