Page 6 of Duty Compromised
He gave me a little salute. “And try not to get shot again. My sympathy quota’s full until next quarter.”
“No promises. I like keeping you on your toes.”
After they left, I headed back inside, taking my time getting familiar with the layout. If I was going to be stuck here for two weeks, might as well know every corner of the place. The second floor was mostly offices—accounting, HR, the usual corporate departments. The fourth floor had conference rooms and what looked like a small cafeteria.
I made my way back to the third floor and the lab’s reception area. Wilmington’s keycard got me through the door to find a small waiting area—a few chairs, a water cooler, and a desk that was currently unstaffed. Beyond that, another set of doors led to the lab proper.
The reception area was a disaster. Papers scattered across the desk, three half-empty coffee cups in various stages of cold, and what looked like someone’s lunch abandoned on one of the chairs. I was about to head back out when the door burst open and a woman rushed in, muttering to herself.
“Where did I—no, that’s not—come on, I know I left it somewhere?—”
She was wearing a blouse that had seen better days, her auburn hair escaping from what had probably started as a neat braid. She dove behind the desk, rummaging through drawers while keeping up a running commentary to herself.
“Not there, not there—why do I have so many pens that don’t work?—oh, that’s where that went?—”
She hadn’t even noticed me standing there. I cleared my throat.
She shot up so fast she banged her head on the open drawer above her. “Ow! Oh—I didn’t—are you—” Green eyes wide behind slightly crooked glasses, she stared at me like I’d materialized out of thin air. “The lab’s not—we’re not doing tours today. Or any day. We don’t do tours.”
“I’m not here for a tour.” I gave her my most charming smile, the one that usually put people at ease. “Ty Hughes. I’m working security for the next couple weeks.”
“Security?” She blinked, then started patting herself down like she’d lost something on her person. “Nobody told me about—did Alex approve this? Because we have very specific protocols about?—”
The phone on the desk started ringing. We both looked at it. She made no move to answer it.
“You going to get that?” I asked after the fourth ring.
“What? Oh. No, it’ll go to voicemail.” She went back to searching, now checking her pockets. “They always call back if it’s important.”
I raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Interesting approach to reception work. The woman was now checking under papers on the desk, still muttering to herself.
“Can I help you find something?” I kept my voice light, friendly. She seemed wound tighter than a spring.
“A pen. I need a pen. I had one. I swear I had one, but now—” She spun in a circle like the pen might suddenly appear. “This always happens when I need to write something down immediately.”
She was kind of adorable in her frazzled state. Her blouse had what looked like coffee stains, maybe chocolate, and something that might have been mustard. The glasses kept sliding down her nose, and she kept pushing them back up with an absent gesture that looked automatic.
“Hey,” I said gently, trying to catch her attention. Maybe it was her first day or something. My heart went out to her a little bit. One thing I understood was being overwhelmed. “Take a breath. You’re doing great. It’s going to be okay.”
She stopped spinning, looking at me with those wide green eyes.
“The pen behind your ear?” I suggested, smiling wider. “Might that be the one you’re looking for?”
She froze. Her hand slowly went up to her ear, found the pen, and her face flushed pink. “Oh. Right. That’s… Yes. Thank you.”
“No problem.” I leaned against the doorframe, studying her. Mid-twenties, maybe. Pretty in an understated way, like she’d never given much thought to it. Maybe giving her a distinct task might help her center. “You know what? You look like you could use a break. How about you grab us both some coffee? I could definitely use some after the drive here.”
“Coffee?” She blinked at me, then looked around like coffee might materialize from thin air.
“Yeah, you know, that magical liquid that makes mornings bearable?” I kept my tone teasing, gentle. “I saw a break room on the fourth floor. What do you say?”
She nodded slowly, still looking a bit dazed. “I… Yes. Coffee. I can do that.”
“Great. Black for me, thanks.” I gave her another smile. “Take your time. Deep breaths.”
She nodded again and headed for the door, then turned back. “Did Raymond give you a badge? He’s supposed to run it by us before he gives anyone new a badge to?—”
“Dr. Gifford!”
