Silent Weapon. Debra Webb

5

      Tuesday afternoon at quarter past four I tugged my purse strap onto my shoulder and waved a goodbye to Helen, whose shift didn’t end until five. Today had been busier than usual and I was ready to call it a day. Still, I didn’t exactly look forward to going home. At least being busy had kept my mind off last night’s family meeting. No one at work had mentioned the incident, not even Helen. I had a feeling Chief Kent had made sure all who knew about my undercover stint were reminded not to discuss the episode. I hadn’t heard a single peep from a soul.

      A couple of the detectives who dropped by the counter to check out a case file had studied me a little closer than usual, but that could have been my imagination.

      At the elevator I stabbed the call button and the doors slid open immediately. To my surprise Sarah waited in the car. She smiled.

      I was just coming to get you.

      I hated the way my guard went up immediately. This was Sarah, my lifelong friend…my brother’s wife. I shouldn’t feel ill at ease with her just because she was also the boss’s secretary. But somehow I did.

      “What’s up?” I managed an answering smile. My fingers twisted around the strap of my purse in anticipation of the worst.

      She flared her hands and adopted a “dunno” expression. Chief Kent would like you to sit in on an impromptu meeting with the other chiefs.

      The somersault in my chest knocked the breath right out of my lungs. “Okay.” I sucked in a mouthful of oxygen and joined her in the elevator. Looking as cool as a cucumber, Sarah leaned forward and pressed the button for floor six. My stomach dropped to my feet with the upward momentum of the car. Lord, what now? Had the chief decided he couldn’t keep me around after all? Maybe he’d decided I could be the poster child for things not to do while employed by Metro.

      I tried my best to keep my composure from slipping. I didn’t want to look scared or even nervous, for that matter. There was nothing I could do to change the outcome of the meeting except maybe beg for a second chance. Surely I could find another job. I had an excellent record with the exception of this one deviation. That had to count for something. Then again, I supposed I should have thought of that before I launched my Merri Walters amateur sleuth persona.

      On the sixth floor we stepped off the elevator onto plush carpeting. Unlike my work area in the basement, the walls up here were dressed in a warm coat of paint the color of sand. Reserved but elegant paintings, each highlighted by its own personal spotlight, adorned the walls. In the center of the reception area and at the end of the corridor on the left as well as the right, a lavishly detailed wood table supported a massive, lush bouquet of flowers.