Happenstance(87)

My tongue and I have a lot of apologizing to do.

If she lets me.

Lord, what if she doesn’t forgive me?

I’m made so dizzy by the horrible possibility that it takes me a moment to realize Banks and Gabe are starting to look nervous. They enter room after room shouting Elise’s name and all I can do is stand there, my feet encased in cement. No. No. No. She can’t be gone.

“Elise!” I roar, my fist striking out involuntarily and punching a cabinet.

Banks re-enters the kitchen with a yellow, square sticky note in his hands, Gabe following behind him with a pale complexion. “She left this on the door.” He slaps it down in the center of the dining room table. “She went to stop the article from being published.”

Those words don’t penetrate right away. When they do, my skull caves in on itself.

I sent her out into danger. I doubted her, I took out my insecurities on this incredibly giving woman and now she could be hurt. Because of me.

I take a lunging step and lose the entire contents of my stomach in the sink.





Elise





* * *



My Uber pulls up in front of the Times and I leap out, my badge already in hand. Traffic wasn’t as horrific as usual, so I’ve managed to make it here earlier than expected, a New York miracle to say the least. On my way over the bridge, my phone started to ring, so I silenced it. All three men are taking their turn calling me, but I am fully focused on my goal. I’m not looking right or left until it is achieved. When I’m face to face with them again, I want to do it knowing I made every effort to correct my mistake. I want them to know it, too.

I pull open the heavy glass and brass door, jogging through the lobby toward security and scanning my badge. Throwing my purse into a plastic tub and walking through the metal detector. I’m trying not to think about what Tobias, Banks and Gabe would say if I answered the phone—and it’s not too difficult to distract myself at this very moment, because I’m scanning the lobby, looking right, left and over my shoulder for any kind of threat.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary, but I can’t totally ignore the voice whispering in the back of my head that I’m missing something. It started on the ride over from Queens and now, as I enter the elevator, it’s getting louder.

A few moments later, I’m stepping onto the floor where human interest is located.

“Excuse me,” I say breathlessly to the receptionist. “I’m here to see Lisette.”

“She’s downstairs in production.”

“Production? Do you know if they’ve sent tomorrow’s edition yet?”

“They’re doing a test run on our in-house printer, actually.” She frowns slightly. “You didn’t mention your name…”

I’m already speed walking back to the elevator, throwing myself inside and hitting the button for the basement level. I’ve only been down there once, and it was by accident. I’d gotten onto an elevator that already had the button pushed. At a glance, it’s a vast, underground network of servers, sectioned off in the back by a mailroom. I didn’t realize they ran test prints downstairs, but why would I know that? I’m the sandwich girl.

The metal doors open to reveal the basement. It’s a lot quieter than I expected.

No employees that I can see.

Like I remember, there are servers running and they create a static hum. In the distance, there is a trundling sound that makes me think the printer lies in that direction. Shouldering my bag, I step off the elevator and weave through the six-foot-high servers, desperately trying to reduce the warning voice in my head that has gone from a whisper to a shout. I just need to find Lisette, do everything I can to stop the article from running and then I can concentrate on whatever my sixth sense is trying to tell me.

I’ve almost located the source of the rolling sound when voices reach my ears.

A man and a woman are talking. I can’t make out any of the words. I’m too close to the noise now and it’s mostly drowning the conversation out. But when there is a break in the mechanical whir of the printer, I hear the woman’s voice and recognize it immediately.

Karina?

I thought she was working in the field today.

Did she come in personally to prevent my piece from running?

If so, I will worship her forever.

I start to take a step around the server blocking me from view, but before my foot touches the floor, the man’s voice responds to Karina—and my blood becomes ice.

Deputy Mayor Alexander.

My heart starts pounding like a jackrabbit. That shout in the back of my head is more urgent now. It’s telling me to get out of there. Now. There is no reason Alexander and Karina should be talking in hushed tones in the basement of the Times, is there?

“You said printing her little bullshit article would be a distraction from the real story,” Alexander says. “You guaranteed me this would cause her to back off. That all she wanted was something of hers to be published. So why is it being yanked?”

“I don’t know. I can’t ask too many questions without her getting suspicious. She didn’t respond when I asked her where she was staying. I’m a journalist. I know when to push and when my subject is getting jumpy.”

Heavy footsteps tell me Alexander is starting to pace. “When you came to me with her suspicions, I told you to suppress the article. In exchange, I was going to give you inside information, as soon as I took over as mayor. That deal is very close to being off the table. I’m quite happy with our arrangement with the Post.”