The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(65)

And now whoever had taken them not only knew where I lived and where I got coffee, he also had a key to my front door!

But how? How would he have a key?

I heard footsteps walking through the living room, echoing on the hardwood floors and approaching the hallway. I began to panic. I had pepper spray and a stun gun, but it was in my bedroom. Where I always assumed I would be during a situation like this. After all, isn't that where the attacks always take place in the horror films? When the victim is lying in bed? So naturally I would keep them in my nightstand. A hell of a lot of good they did me now.

I could hear the intruder coming down the hallway. I reached for the cordless landline phone on my desk but the cradle was empty.

Damn! I must have left it on the coffee table.

I was trapped. If I tried to make a dash to the bedroom to grab the stun gun, I would surely come face-to-face with him. And if he had a weapon (which he most definitely would) he would be able to get to me first.

I eyed the window in front of me. I was on the top floor of the building. Four floors stood between me and the ground. I would never survive a jump.

More footsteps.

Then I remembered a fire escape. It was actually outside of the bedroom window. Only a few short, cliff-hanger steps away. I could grab on to the drainpipe hanging from the roof and shimmy my way to the bedroom window. Then, once on the fire escape, I could climb safely to the ground.

I could hear the footsteps getting closer. If they were looking for me, they would check the guest room first before coming into the office. I had approximately ten seconds...twelve if they made a stop at the hallway closet.

I quietly stood up from my chair and reached out in front of me, pulling the window open. I knocked the edge of the screen with the palm of my hand and it willingly popped out of place. I watched it float slowly to the ground, and then heard the small clank of it hitting the sidewalk. I swallowed hard, confident that I would make a much bigger "clank" should I follow it to the ground. The space the open window provided me was small at best. It would be a tight squeeze. I stuck the top half of my body out, looking for something to step onto.

That's when I heard the footsteps behind me, entering the office.

I froze.

"You never called me back yesterday, bi-atch!" I heard Zo?'s shrill voice call from across the room and reverberate through the open window.

I let out an audible sigh of relief and quickly pulled myself back inside, dusting the dirt from the windowsill off my hands.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyeing my current state.

I looked uneasily back toward the window. "I thought I heard a dying bird," I replied blankly.

"And you were going to give it mouth-to-mouth?"

I let out a nervous laugh and quickly reached over to shut my laptop, hiding the photographic evidence of my job from Zo?'s view. "I forgot I gave you a key," I said, immediately regretting the day I readily offered free entrance to my home to both Zo? and Sophie.

She shrugged and exited the office, making her way down the hallway and into the kitchen. I followed after her. She picked up a can of Coke Zero that she had placed on the counter and took a sip. Then she grabbed a sealed Pop-Tart from inside her purse. "Mind if I toast this?"

I plopped down on the couch and flipped on the TV. "Fine," I said, still trying to calm my nerves from my near near-death experience.

"I bet you haven't called Sophie yet, either, huh?"

I reluctantly told her that I hadn't.

It wasn't that I didn't want to call Sophie. I just hadn't had a chance to think about my personal life ever since my secretive professional life had been plastered on the Internet for anyone and everyone to see.

Zo? threw her frosted Pop-Tart into the toaster oven and leaned her elbows on the kitchen counter. "You know, you really hurt her feelings. She was just trying to help."

I glared at her. "Since when do you take sides?"

"I'm not taking sides. I'm just trying to smooth things over so I don't have to be in the middle of this. Plus, you're usually the one she calls with all her neuroses, and now I've become your involuntary replacement. And honestly, I don't think I can handle the job much longer."

It was true. Sophie did usually call me first when she had a problem or a breakdown or just to vent. And suddenly I really missed getting those late-night phone calls. And what I wouldn't give to be able to tell Sophie everything that had happened to me over the past few days: that beautiful man I met on the plane; that god-awful Web site; my elevator attack. Or even if I couldn't tell her the real versions of all those stories, at least I'd have someone to tell something to. Suddenly my life felt incomplete without Sophie in it, neuroses and all.

"She hurt my feelings too, you know."

The toaster dinged. Zo? removed her Pop-Tart, placed it on a paper towel, and came and sat down next to me on the couch. "I know. Everyone hurt everyone's feelings. But can't we all just forget about it and move on with our lives like adults?" She took a bite.

I watched her. "This is coming from someone who's eating a fruit-filled toaster pastry with blue frosting."

"It's their newest flavor," Zo? defended. "And I didn't have time to eat dinner."

"Mmmm. Nutritious."

"C'mon," she pleaded. "Be the bigger person. You know how sensitive Sophie gets."