eat.
Their guy had made his statement. This time the bomb was set on the sculpture in the quad. But the psycho had been wrong, someone had gotten hurt. A custodian coming across had got hit by a piece of flying cement. It was minor, six stitches, but the first blood was drawn.
Britt proceeded across the quad glancing toward what was left of the statue.
“We’re done here for now.” Detective Todd came toward him.
“Thanks,” he glanced at the group of reporters waiting on the other side of the police tape.
“Do you want an escort to your car?” Todd asked, following his gaze.
“No, I’ll hold them off with a promised press conference in the morning. Hopefully they’ll accept that and give us some time to think how to handle this.”
“That would be good. I’d like to go over details with you before you talk to them. I really don’t want a copycat.”
“I’ll second that,” Britt agreed. With a heavy sigh, he headed toward the group, blinking as camera flashes blinded him.
Chapter Five
Rachelle stepped off the bus feeling a heavy sense of anxiety. She was late for the first time since she returned to work. Her night had been plagued with nightmares; from someone watching her, followed by going out with Britt and making a fool of herself, bumping into things and knocking them over while all around people laughed, and Britt turned away to a group of gorgeous women. Finally, she got to a sound sleep only to sleep through her alarm, so she missed her bus.
She felt awkward on the unfamiliar bus, especially when she almost sat in someone’s lap when the person didn’t answer her. Then, to top it off, the bus started before she was seated and she fell, snagging her nylons.
She hoped, as she pushed through the revolving door into the lobby, that the whole day wasn’t set to go that way. The loud hum of voices and confusion greeted her. She was tempted to follow the door around and back out, but forced herself to step out onto the marble floor only to lose her sense of direction when someone bumped into her. Several more people brushed against her, and she became completely lost. A wave of panic hit her, but she pushed it down. Forced to resort to groping, and having to make several apologies, she made it to the wall.
Frustration mounted as she moved, clinging to the wall. Thankfully she didn’t run into any more people. When she made contact with the drinking fountain, she stood for a moment thankful to know where she was. Taking a deep steadying breath, she turned her attention to the buzz of voices around her.
Someone yelled out a question about the latest bombing affecting business. While another asked about security at the same time. The voice that answered had her turning in that direction. Britton Clairbourne’s voice carried through the lobby.
“As I’ve said, we’ll be continuing business as usual, just with extra security. We’re cooperating totally with the police and government officials. They are doing everything they can. I have great faith in them. We’ll figure out who’s doing this. I want this company to be a safe and comfortable place to work.”
Work, she was late for work. Rachelle tried to move forward to the elevator, only to be pushed aside again as people suddenly shifted. She lost contact with the wall, then her sense of direction, as she once more was bumped and pushed around. She wanted to scream at everyone to stop. She wanted to drop to the ground and cry, to be out away from all the people. She wanted Britt to come take her into his arms as he did a few nights earlier and make everything all right.
She turned and a woman yelled, “Mr. Clairbourne, Detective Todd,” right in her ear. She heard the bell of the elevator not far away and tried to head toward it, only to come up against the brick wall of a man’s chest.
“Excuse me.” She tried to shift around him unsuccessfully. Frustration changed to fear in two words she heard uttered.
“Clairbourne
Their guy had made his statement. This time the bomb was set on the sculpture in the quad. But the psycho had been wrong, someone had gotten hurt. A custodian coming across had got hit by a piece of flying cement. It was minor, six stitches, but the first blood was drawn.
Britt proceeded across the quad glancing toward what was left of the statue.
“We’re done here for now.” Detective Todd came toward him.
“Thanks,” he glanced at the group of reporters waiting on the other side of the police tape.
“Do you want an escort to your car?” Todd asked, following his gaze.
“No, I’ll hold them off with a promised press conference in the morning. Hopefully they’ll accept that and give us some time to think how to handle this.”
“That would be good. I’d like to go over details with you before you talk to them. I really don’t want a copycat.”
“I’ll second that,” Britt agreed. With a heavy sigh, he headed toward the group, blinking as camera flashes blinded him.
Chapter Five
Rachelle stepped off the bus feeling a heavy sense of anxiety. She was late for the first time since she returned to work. Her night had been plagued with nightmares; from someone watching her, followed by going out with Britt and making a fool of herself, bumping into things and knocking them over while all around people laughed, and Britt turned away to a group of gorgeous women. Finally, she got to a sound sleep only to sleep through her alarm, so she missed her bus.
She felt awkward on the unfamiliar bus, especially when she almost sat in someone’s lap when the person didn’t answer her. Then, to top it off, the bus started before she was seated and she fell, snagging her nylons.
She hoped, as she pushed through the revolving door into the lobby, that the whole day wasn’t set to go that way. The loud hum of voices and confusion greeted her. She was tempted to follow the door around and back out, but forced herself to step out onto the marble floor only to lose her sense of direction when someone bumped into her. Several more people brushed against her, and she became completely lost. A wave of panic hit her, but she pushed it down. Forced to resort to groping, and having to make several apologies, she made it to the wall.
Frustration mounted as she moved, clinging to the wall. Thankfully she didn’t run into any more people. When she made contact with the drinking fountain, she stood for a moment thankful to know where she was. Taking a deep steadying breath, she turned her attention to the buzz of voices around her.
Someone yelled out a question about the latest bombing affecting business. While another asked about security at the same time. The voice that answered had her turning in that direction. Britton Clairbourne’s voice carried through the lobby.
“As I’ve said, we’ll be continuing business as usual, just with extra security. We’re cooperating totally with the police and government officials. They are doing everything they can. I have great faith in them. We’ll figure out who’s doing this. I want this company to be a safe and comfortable place to work.”
Work, she was late for work. Rachelle tried to move forward to the elevator, only to be pushed aside again as people suddenly shifted. She lost contact with the wall, then her sense of direction, as she once more was bumped and pushed around. She wanted to scream at everyone to stop. She wanted to drop to the ground and cry, to be out away from all the people. She wanted Britt to come take her into his arms as he did a few nights earlier and make everything all right.
She turned and a woman yelled, “Mr. Clairbourne, Detective Todd,” right in her ear. She heard the bell of the elevator not far away and tried to head toward it, only to come up against the brick wall of a man’s chest.
“Excuse me.” She tried to shift around him unsuccessfully. Frustration changed to fear in two words she heard uttered.
“Clairbourne
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