Page 19 of Only the Devil

So I carefully back out of the office, careful not to touch a thing.

We wordlessly make our way back to the elevator, retracing my steps. So much for breaking into offices and planting surveillance devices. We’ll need to stay clear this weekend.

Even after the medics arrive, it’ll be smart to stay clear. There’s no telling who might be coming by over the weekend.

The elevator ride down feels endless. Daisy stares at the numbers above the door like they hold the secrets of the universe. I keep my hand near the small of her back, not quite touching, but ready to steady her if her knees give out.

We head out of the lobby. There’s no one at the reception desk. If there were, I’d say something like “She got her headphones. Have a great weekend,” but there’s no one here.

Come to think of it, no one was there when we went in, either. Maybe they get summer Fridays too.

“We did the right thing,” I say, though I’m not entirely sure I believe it.

She nods without looking at me. “I know.” But she doesn’t sound like she knows. She sounds like someone trying to convince herself.

Back at the condo, Daisy immediately slips on her headphones and pulls up something on her phone.

I call Quinn and give her a complete report. She says she’ll keep an eye out for emergency calls in the area and for any reports she can access. Quinn’s the one who asks if it could be poison.

There was an empty plastic water bottle in the circular trash can. But poison’s a stretch. No, I imagine it’s just bad luck. Death from natural causes.

We’ll aim for a different day to plant surveillance. It’ll give me more time to ensure I have the equipment needed to break in without scratching the office door locks.

After the sun sets, I nudge Daisy. She pushes a singular headphone above her ear.

“Hungry? Sushi?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay. Fair. I can see where raw fish might not be appetizing after the day’s events.”

“Any movement over there?”

While she’s been in a zone on the sofa, I’ve been sitting in the armchair that’s positioned to look across the street.

“None that I’ve seen.”

She plants a palm over her forehead like she’s checking her temperature.

“You hungry at all? I’m gonna gnaw my arm off if I don’t get something soon.”

“Burger and fries.”

“In or out?”

“In.” She’s clearly still in a bit of shock and not up for going out, which is fine by me.

While I’ve seen dead people before and a stranger who died of what’s most likely natural causes lying on the floor doesn’t disturb me much; death doesn’t put me in a social mood.

We order food and eat mostly in silence.

My thoughts go back to the office. The desk space was clean. She didn’t have a bag or anything nearby.

“We should’ve taken photos,” I say, realizing that if her death wasn’t due to natural causes, we exited a crime scene.

“The police will do that. Or the EMT or whoever they call.”

She’s right. “I didn’t see a briefcase or backpack or anything like that. Did you?”