Smiling to myself, I walked around the building to the doorway that led up to my apartment, keys in my hand. The second I lifted my arm, I froze. There was a prickle on the side of my right shoulder that told me someone was standing around the corner of the building.
I had almost hoped that these instincts would fade over time. But it was clear as day. Turning to my right, I said, “Show yourself.”
A tall, wiry older man dressed all in black came around the corner. He was wearing a scarf that blocked part of his profile, with a gray baseball hat pulled low to shadow his eyes. He looked casual, but no camera could identify him from a distance.
“Impressive security,” he grinned. “Somebody taught you well, little girl.”
“Why are you here?” I said flatly. He was on my turf now, and I didn’t want him to forget that.
“Inside,” he said automatically. I knew he never wanted to discuss anything in public, ever.
I didn’t want to start a fight with him right off the top. Rolling my eyes, I unlocked the door and led him up the stairs. The feeling of having my old life clash so suddenly with my new world filled me with dread. But there was really nothing I could do about it now.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I’d always been one of the strange people who enjoyed slightly busy days. I liked to feel productive. I enjoyed seeing a stack of papers at the end of my shift that represented the things I had accomplished.
Sure, some of my colleagues thought I was a bit of a freak, and poked fun, but I didn’t care. Everyone knew that I was a goody-two-shoes, if people even use that expression anymore.
At the end of the day, I had gotten a lot more accomplished than usual, even for me. Perhaps I was just fired up from an amazing evening, or refreshed from one of the most perfect nights of sleep I’d ever experienced.
Detective Clarkson came by and shot me a huge grin. “What’s up?” I asked.
“We have a hell of a lead in the arson cases,” he said.
“The second one only took place just a few days ago,” I said, scratching my head. “But you have a lead already?”
He shrugged, flashing a crooked grin. “The lead came to us, actually. Some anonymous helpful citizen dropped evidence about the Robotham family outside the station last night. They’re the owners of the two buildings that recently had fires, and it looks like they want to gut them to put up condos. They also happen to own more buildings in the area.”
“What sort of evidence?” I couldn’t quite believe it.
“Emails of the arsons being plotted. Security footage of the suspects outside the Armstrong building around the time the fire was likely set. Not quite enough to convict, but plenty to get us all of the warrants we could want.”
“And you say someone just dropped it off?”
“Apparently. The envelope just appeared on our doorstep. Literally. Our cameras didn’t pick anything up except a blur, then the envelope sitting there. It looks like it was thrown from a distance just outside of the camera’s coverage.” He shrugged. “Somebody must have known the exact range of that lens. But who cares, we’re going to have the bad guys behind bars in days before something else burns down.”
“Yeah, that’s a relief,” I agreed.
When something was too good to be true, I couldn’t help but get suspicious. Who would have access to private emails and video footage? Either it was someone on the inside, or someone who had access to the off
ices.
Who would do such a thing? Risk getting caught, just to make sure that someone else was arrested? It if was an inside job, maybe someone got pulled along for the ride, but drew the line when people’s lives were at risk. It’s one thing to burn down an abandoned building, but something else entirely to set fire to a structure with families inside.
It was still all sorts of strange. Things like this just didn’t happen, especially in our rather sedate corner of the city.
The strangeness of it all rolled around and around in my mind, until I finally went to get another cup of coffee. As I passed Detective Clarkson’s desk, I paused. “Can I see that evidence that you found?” I asked.
He pointed to a huge manila envelope sitting on the corner of his desk. Looking again though, it wasn’t manila. It was flecked with green recycled fibers. Almost like bits of leaves or tree bark.
Like the fancy envelopes that had been on Bailey’s desk where she left the drive with the video footage for me.
Although I was a beat cop, not a detective, everyone on the force tended to have an inquisitive nature. Instantly I wondered how common those envelopes were. After I grabbed a coffee, I went back to my desk to search our usual office supply stores. There was absolutely nothing like it.
I searched every stationery supply place I could think of that delivered in our neighborhood. There was nothing even remotely similar that was made in a large size like that. Falling down a swirling vortex of open browser windows, I finally found a place that had a photo of a similar sort of paper, available in envelopes of all sizes, even nine by twelve like these ones. They were created using trees from their own forest, which is why they left some green leaf bits in. Eco-friendly stationery.
They didn’t sell online. That particular collection was from two years ago, and was only available in their store, which was on the other side of the country.