But…
But—what? Why was she having this issue? Intellectually, Maisey knew she couldn’t be his only client. Not like she expected him to give her some magical twenty-four, seven attention. Though, sure, that would be awesome.
Maisey stared at her phone as it sat on her desk. Then, heaving a sigh, she snagged the phone and called Odin. Only she got his voicemail, not the man himself. Maisey cleared her throat. “So, hi, it’s me.” Would he recognize her voice? If not, he would have zero idea who me is. “Maisey,” she rushed to say. “I wanted to check in about the case.” Her desk chair’s wheels rolled back across the floor. “See if you had any news and…um, honestly, I was hoping I could help you with the case.” That had been her grand plan when she first went to his office. “I thought we could work together like partners.” She stood and slung her bag over shoulder. Her empty laptop bag.
Odin had hinted to Clay that Maisey had backed up all of the information from her stolen laptop—that she’d saved that data to her computer at work. Technically, she supposed it hadn’t been a hint. He’d just come out and said she had the files at the college. But there had been no attempts on her office. No determined thief who wanted to see if she had more evidence. And she was only hauling around the empty bag now because she did plan to go and buy a new laptop that evening.
She’d also let the silence trail too long on her phone. “Call me when you have a chance, would you?” Maisey rattled off her number. “Thanks, and I—”
His voicemail hung up on her.
Wonderful. She was sure that her rambling message sounded awesome. Or not.
She was about to drop her phone into the bag when it vibrated in her hand. She’d programmed Odin’s number in already, and when she saw it light up the screen, her finger immediately swiped to take the call. “Odin! You got my message?” And he’d responded so very quickly. That seemed like a good sign.
“Your what?”
“My voicemail?” She cleared her throat. “You got the message I left for you?”
“No.”
“Uh…”
“We need to talk.”
Weren’t they talking? She headed down the corridor. The Humanities building was empty. Her last class had been an hour ago, and she’d only stayed because she needed to get lessons set up for the next session later in the week. “I’m leaving campus now,” she told him. “Maybe we could meet up?”
“I’m here.”
He was? Her steps quickened.
“I’m waiting in the parking lot.” His voice hardened. “It’s deserted. Why the hell are you staying here alone? No other vehicles are around.”
Her shoulders stiffened as she grabbed for the stairwell door. She could have waited for the elevator but the thing was seriously slower than Christmas. And she was only on the third floor—she loved sneaking in some cardio. “There’s a security guard who patrols the area every fifteen minutes. I’m safe. I’m—” The line went dead. She heard the flash of static. Dang it! Dead zone. For some reason, that always happened on these stairs. But as soon as she got to the first floor, reception would return. Maisey kept the phone to her ear as she hurried down the steps.
She was on the fifth step down when she realized something was wrong.
The stairwell door hadn’t swung shut behind her.
She paused just for a moment, the phone still at her ear, and she started to turn around and see what was—
Something—someone—slammed into her. The phone flew from Maisey’s fingers and tumbled down the stairs. She tumbled down the stairs right after it.
***
“Maisey?” Odin’s grip on his phone tightened. “Maisey!” She’d just been telling him that she was safe and then—nothing.
The line had disconnected, and Odin automatically called her again even as he took off at a run for the Humanities building. It was a towering, brick building. The bricks had been painted white, and the windows gleamed in the setting sun. He knew she had an office on the third floor. The history department was on the west end of the third floor. He’d done recon work on Maisey and her creepy neighbor. Maisey was on the third floor, while Clay and the rest of the psych department were on the fourth.
Odin rushed into the Humanities building—
“Hey!” A sharp voice called, “Stop!”
He didn’t want to stop. Maisey still wasn’t picking up the phone, and adrenaline pounded through him.
“Campus security!” The voice barked, “Spin toward me.”
Dammit. Odin spun toward him. “I’m worried about my friend. I was just going to meet her.” Then he got a good look at the guard.
Seriously? The man appeared to be pushing ninety. His body curved forward as he studied Odin, and the man’s white hair shot from beneath his gray hat.
His grizzled jaw tightened as the man snapped, “Classes are over. No students are in the building now.”
“She’s not a student.” He still had the phone in his hand. “She’s a professor. Maisey Bright. She’s—”
“Maisey!” A delighted smile stretched the guard’s face. “Plays a great game of poker, that woman does.”
He filed that away for later. “Listen, Maisey was just talking to me, but then we got disconnected. I’m worried something happened to her.” And talking to you is stopping me from finding her so…
The guard waved at him. “She’s probably in the stairwell. Signal is crap there.”
The stairwell.
“Give her a minute,” the guard assured him. His gold name tag identified the guard as Sandy. “She’ll be along soon enough. She always takes the stairs. Says it gives her extra steps and cardio time.”
Odin did some quick calculations. If she’d been on the stairs when her phone went out, she should have already been on the ground level. He’d had to run across the parking lot and dodge across about fifty yards in a common area before he’d burst into the Humanities building.
An unlocked building. Maybe the guard said students shouldn’t be there, but there had been nothing to keep them—or anyone else—out.
He shot for the stairwell. Threw open the door. Took a fast step inside and—crunch.
“Do you see her?” Sandy called out. “Told you,” he said, before Odin could answer. “She likes her cardio.”
Odin lifted his shoe. Stared down at the cracked screen of a phone. Fuck. “Maisey!” he roared.
“Damn, man. Calm down.” Sandy had sidled into the stairwell. “Why she—oh, that’s her phone. She has that cute dragon phone case. Told her I wanted one for myself—”
Odin had just lunged up three steps when he stopped. He looked back. Looked down. He’d come in on the first floor, and he could see stairs leading even lower. There was some kind of bag on those stairs. A laptop bag? “Where do those go?” Odin pointed.
Sandy followed his pointing finger. “The basement. That’s where we get our deliveries. There’s a big garage area that opens and the trucks can come right in and—”
The trucks could come in down there. If they could come in, that meant someone else could get out.