The Herd(43)

“Katie.”

I jumped and my head shot up. Aurelia, the glossy-haired member relations coordinator, was standing over me, her hands stuffed into her pockets.

“Aurelia. Hi.” I closed the file folder, all casual.

“There’s a detective here. Ratliff.” She jerked her head toward the front desk. “She’s going to look through Eleanor’s office. She said we can watch as long as we don’t touch anything. Hana…” She shrugged. “She suggested I have you there. What with your investigative journalist instincts and everything.”

Hana had interacted with Aurelia today, but not me? “Of course.”

Ratliff said hello stoically; I couldn’t tell if she realized we’d talked on the phone less than an hour earlier. She stepped inside Eleanor’s now-unlocked office while the three of us—Mikki, too—clustered in the door. The room, with its rectangle of sun and bursts of happy green, somehow seemed sinister now. The chairs in the corner looked mocking in their emptiness; the spider plants seemed to sag.

It was neat—impeccably so. Eleanor’s broad computer monitor sat on the desk, taunting us. Ratliff snapped on gloves and moved to turn it on, but Mikki mumbled something about how it wouldn’t do anything without a computer hooked up to it; sure enough, the screen blinked to life, then coldly demanded an input.

From then on, it was exactly as excruciating as standing motionless as a TSA employee attempts to repack your bag. I pointed to Eleanor’s small golden trash can and said something about checking it. Ratliff ignored me and fumbled with the pashmina and sweater draped on the coat rack, checking pockets. Then she tugged at the mint-green file cabinet rolled under the desk and thumbed through hanging index folders.

“I know she keeps Herd applications in there,” Aurelia called. “And stuff related to the Fort Greene site.” Ratliff nodded, then pulled out large clear bags and loaded the folders inside.

“Uh, some of those are original documents,” Mikki said. “Permits and stuff.”

“You can have them back once we know they’re not pertinent,” Ratliff replied without looking up. My stomach twisted—the invasion of Eleanor’s personal space felt creepy and wrong. Ratliff was rifling casually, as if the owner wouldn’t be back, as if these were a dead woman’s things. At the shelving units, she picked up the first leather notebook on the stack and flipped through it—empty, I guessed, because she set it back. Same with the three below it.

“Didn’t Eleanor carry around a notebook?” I asked.

“I think she kept it in her purse,” Mikki said, crossing her arms. “We still don’t know what happened to her purse or laptop.”

“That’s what we hoped to find here,” Ratliff cut in. She ran a finger across the glass shelf. “When was the cleaner last here?”

“Monday night,” Aurelia replied. “Probably around five. She couldn’t clean yesterday because it was locked, obviously.”

Ratliff nodded and then leaned forward, inspecting the little knife. “And can anyone tell me about this?”

“I’ve asked her about it before—the handle is so beautiful.” Mikki pressed a hand against the doorframe. “She brought it back from Mexico City at some point. She’s had it for a long time—since she started Gleam, at least.”

Ratliff loaded the blade and its holder into an evidence bag as well. Finally, she fished in the trash can and bagged two tiny receipts (ATM withdrawals? Credit card slips from delis?) and a subway card. She stuck her hands on her knees and stood. “Is there anything else you think I should see here?”

We looked at each other blankly.

“Is there anything else you want to see?” Aurelia finally asked.

Ratliff shook her head. “You have my number if you think of anything.” We bumbled out of the doorway and accompanied her out.

Aurelia floated back to the front desk, and Mikki and I exchanged a look. “What the hell kind of search was that?” I demanded.

“She barely even looked around,” Mikki said. She turned and marched back toward Eleanor’s office. “If she won’t look properly, I will.”

I hurried after her and closed us inside. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

Mikki was already cross-legged in front of the shelves, yanking at books that lined the bottom two rows. “No idea,” she replied.

The door swung open and Aurelia appeared. Without a word, she plopped down next to Mikki, who was shaking books by the covers so the pages lolled.

“What did she want to talk to you about?” Mikki asked.

I looked around in confusion, but Aurelia answered: “She had questions about the acquisition. Who would benefit, if anyone was against it, that kind of thing. I was pretty useless—I didn’t know about it till this week either.”

Ratliff must have shown up earlier than I’d thought, chatting with Aurelia before conducting her half-assed search. It shook me that Ratliff could’ve walked right by Fatima and me.

“And could you think of anything?” Mikki asked.

“Not really. I wish Hana were here, she knows more than I do. The detective asked for files on all our members. Oh, and everyone working on the Fort Greene site.”

I pulled at the backs of the framed photos, the one of Mikki, Eleanor, and Hana as big-eyed, thick-banged eighteen-year-olds, plus the one of Daniel and Eleanor vacationing together. Nothing written on the back of either.