At Any Cost by Cara Ellison

pipeline from the fifth floor to the roof?”
    â€œI’m wondering the same thing.”
    â€œIf police were chasing him, they would have stopped him on the sixth floor and he’d never have jumped.”
    â€œMaybe he had some connection to the building,” Tom said, his voice low and thoughtful.
    Fallon adjusted the purse on her shoulder and stepped up to the rungs.
    â€œHold on,” Tom said, and lightly gripped her by the waist. Fallon yelped with surprise as he effortlessly lifted her off the ladder and set her on terra firma, leaving her a little giddy from the unexpected contact.
    â€œI’ll check it out,” he said.
    Fallon watched him climb the ladder, admiring his body in action. At the top, he pushed open the hatch roof. A wedge of gray sky appeared over Tom’s head. “All clear.”
    Fallon climbed up and emerged on the roof. The strange perspective of the city rooftops spread out before her was exhilarating. The Gothic spire of the National Cathedral glimmered through the low clouds to the west. The rest of the city looked strangely anonymous—a grid of grayness.
    Fallon walked to the edge of the roof and looked down at the vertex where M and 22nd Streets met. A queue of yellow taxis was shockingly bright in the pale pearl-gray morning light. Around the corner, her two glossy, bulky black limos were idling.
    This is where Antoine Campbell would have jumped, from this very spot. Relatively speaking, the distance down didn’t seem too terrible. Curiously, if Antoine Campbell had chosen to cross the street, he would have been able to jump from one of the District’s few actual skyscrapers—the Verizon Building. Jumping from that building would have been much more certain to cause death than the relatively short six stories of this building. Fallon studied the cell antennae on the roof of the Verizon building. In addition to the height, it was also newer than this one, meaning it would have a modern fire code, one where the top floor would lead directly to the roof.
    A dark certainty passed over Fallon. Tiny pinprick tears stung her eyes. She looked to Tom. His expression was soft and compassionate and she felt that he knew it too, that the truth had somehow been shown to them both in that instant.
    â€œSomebody … did that to him ….” Her voice was a trembling wisp.
    Tom’s lips tightened into a grim line.
    â€œCome here,” she said. “Look.”
    Tom shook his head.
    A slow, bitter smile touched her lips. “I remember. You’re afraid of heights.”
    He looked at her evenly—reading her mind, she thought. Fallon felt her face heat, embarrassed to have mentioned her past knowledge of him, which opened up the subject that both were politely avoiding.
    A dry, kind smile of acknowledgement came to his lips. He reached for her arm, gently urging her from the edge of the rooftop. “Come on.”
    Fallon stepped away from the edge. She wrapped her coat tighter around her body, trying to fight the cold and confusion.
    â€œYou got two calls yesterday.”
    Fallon blinked in surprise, jostled by his businesslike words. “Pardon?”
    â€œAt the coffee shop, you said there were two calls. One from your friend Gwen and another. Do you still have the message on your phone?”
    â€œYes, but it recorded just dead air.”
    â€œWe can send your phone to Electronic Crimes. The geeks might be able to get some info from that. Maybe a number, maybe the origin of the call if it was made from a cell.”
    She shrugged. “Would they do that?”
    â€œSomeone who said he was in imminent danger of being killed called my protectee, then he dies under mysterious circumstances. That puts you in danger.”
    â€œI’m not in danger,” she replied lightly. She found the whole Secret Service apparatus a little absurd; she was a struggling attorney—not a political operative. She still bristled when