the car. Wasting no time, she hustled across the lot and punched the elevator button. She glanced at the numbers above and cursed the fact that the elevator was at ground floor. It would have to travel three floors to reach her. Twenty seconds if no one on the other floors lingered. But this time of day someone always dawdled.
Angie stroked her thumb over the worn handle of her briefcase, which had belonged to her father. She pressed the button a few more times.
In a distant corner of the garage, a car door opened and closed. She turned to see if she saw anyone. No one emerged from the shadows, but careful footsteps pacedback and forth. She leaned forward, trying to see into the darkness, but she couldn’t make out anyone.
Someone was there, but why not come out? Why just stand in the shadows and watch her? Her heart jumped. The elevator dinged. One floor down. The footsteps clicked back and forth, back and forth.
“Come on, damn it.” Perspiration trickled down her back. The elevator dinged once again and again. Two floors to go.
She searched the shadows, wondering why whoever was out there didn’t emerge. It was almost as if he or she didn’t want to be seen.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
And then the doors opened. A rush of relief washed over her so swift and hot that she nearly tripped into the car. She punched the ground floor button six times as she stared into the shadows.
As the doors were about to close, a man appeared on the lip of the darkness. She couldn’t make out his features, but she had the deep bone-chilling sense he stared at her.
The feeling that she’d been followed and watched chased her as the elevator rose to street level and down the block-long walk to Wellington and James.
Relief washed over her as she climbed the brick steps of the mid-nineteenth-century building. The large black lacquer front door was flanked by a set of windows made of double-pane glass. Window boxes brimming with red geraniums that had so far survived the chilly weather added a pop of color.
The exterior look was traditional, all very much in keeping with the colonial feel of Old Town Alexandria. However, her boss, Charlotte Wellington, was a stickler for security. That meant the front door that looked sotraditional had a state-of-the-art locking system that was always secure. You either had the pass code to punch into the keypad by the front door or you were buzzed into the reception area. No one just walked into Wellington and James.
Angie punched in the code, waited to hear the click of the lock, and quickly pulled open the door to find her sister, Eva, sitting in the lobby.
Eva was twenty-eight, four years younger than Angie, but Eva could have passed for a teenager. Straight black hair framed a heart-shaped face, and her petite frame usually clad in jeans and a dark T-shirt often had people dismissing her as an airhead kid. That was always a mistake.
Eva’s intelligence scored off the charts. She’d all but breezed through the college courses she’d taken this past year. She was expected to graduate by next summer with degrees in English and social work.
Eva had endured so much darkness in her life, and it would have been easy for her to be bitter, but Eva had never succumbed to anger. Her motto was “Eyes forward.”
As Angie entered, Eva rose, shouldering her knapsack. “Hey!”
Angie crossed the room and hugged Eva. They’d been separated for so long Angie had vowed never to let simple moments like greetings be ignored.
Eva hugged her back. “Your receptionist, Iris, let me in. She just had to run down the street for coffee. Said she’d be right back.”
“Iris without her coffee is a bad thing.” She glanced at Eva’s pale skin and the hint of darkness under both eyes. “You feeling all right?”
“Just burning the candle at both ends. Too much life to make up, I suppose.”
“So what brings you here this morning?” Angie said.
“A woman at the halfway house where I volunteer. She’s in
Angie stroked her thumb over the worn handle of her briefcase, which had belonged to her father. She pressed the button a few more times.
In a distant corner of the garage, a car door opened and closed. She turned to see if she saw anyone. No one emerged from the shadows, but careful footsteps pacedback and forth. She leaned forward, trying to see into the darkness, but she couldn’t make out anyone.
Someone was there, but why not come out? Why just stand in the shadows and watch her? Her heart jumped. The elevator dinged. One floor down. The footsteps clicked back and forth, back and forth.
“Come on, damn it.” Perspiration trickled down her back. The elevator dinged once again and again. Two floors to go.
She searched the shadows, wondering why whoever was out there didn’t emerge. It was almost as if he or she didn’t want to be seen.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
And then the doors opened. A rush of relief washed over her so swift and hot that she nearly tripped into the car. She punched the ground floor button six times as she stared into the shadows.
As the doors were about to close, a man appeared on the lip of the darkness. She couldn’t make out his features, but she had the deep bone-chilling sense he stared at her.
The feeling that she’d been followed and watched chased her as the elevator rose to street level and down the block-long walk to Wellington and James.
Relief washed over her as she climbed the brick steps of the mid-nineteenth-century building. The large black lacquer front door was flanked by a set of windows made of double-pane glass. Window boxes brimming with red geraniums that had so far survived the chilly weather added a pop of color.
The exterior look was traditional, all very much in keeping with the colonial feel of Old Town Alexandria. However, her boss, Charlotte Wellington, was a stickler for security. That meant the front door that looked sotraditional had a state-of-the-art locking system that was always secure. You either had the pass code to punch into the keypad by the front door or you were buzzed into the reception area. No one just walked into Wellington and James.
Angie punched in the code, waited to hear the click of the lock, and quickly pulled open the door to find her sister, Eva, sitting in the lobby.
Eva was twenty-eight, four years younger than Angie, but Eva could have passed for a teenager. Straight black hair framed a heart-shaped face, and her petite frame usually clad in jeans and a dark T-shirt often had people dismissing her as an airhead kid. That was always a mistake.
Eva’s intelligence scored off the charts. She’d all but breezed through the college courses she’d taken this past year. She was expected to graduate by next summer with degrees in English and social work.
Eva had endured so much darkness in her life, and it would have been easy for her to be bitter, but Eva had never succumbed to anger. Her motto was “Eyes forward.”
As Angie entered, Eva rose, shouldering her knapsack. “Hey!”
Angie crossed the room and hugged Eva. They’d been separated for so long Angie had vowed never to let simple moments like greetings be ignored.
Eva hugged her back. “Your receptionist, Iris, let me in. She just had to run down the street for coffee. Said she’d be right back.”
“Iris without her coffee is a bad thing.” She glanced at Eva’s pale skin and the hint of darkness under both eyes. “You feeling all right?”
“Just burning the candle at both ends. Too much life to make up, I suppose.”
“So what brings you here this morning?” Angie said.
“A woman at the halfway house where I volunteer. She’s in
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