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Killer Sends Kat a Note
“You’re on dangerous ground!”
The neatly typewritten note was precisely centered in the standard 8½ by 11 sheet. Kat sat hunched over the missive in a daze. It arrived inconspicuously in the intercampus mail that afternoon. She swiveled the chair a little and leaned back, stretching her neck in circles, but when she looked again at the note the typewritten words remained the same.
She was spooked. Angry. Confused. Why her? What had she done now? She twisted the envelope around in her hands, wishing she hadn’t been so careless in opening and handling it. She must have moved the intercampus mail around five times before she settled down to opening what was often more work—usually urgent last minute requests. Staving off the inevitable for a short while gave her the illusion of control. But this note shattered that illusion.
Kat knew she should tell Nick, and call Burrows. But after what had become dubbed the “car chase day” she wasn’t really ready for more interrogation. Too bad she’d sliced the envelope open. It somehow made it impossible for her to hide it back on her desk and “discover” it tomorrow or the next day. She was so sick of feeling in the middle of this. She hadn’t seen the killer. Had no clue who the killer was. Had no idea why [the victim] would have been killed. So why did everything seem to lead to her?
Well, whining to herself would get her nowhere. She sensed Nick was eyeing her again. When she glanced up she saw him looking through his open door. Behind him the office décor reflected the personality of the last director. The green shaded desk lamp was the last vestige of an old newspaper editor, and the Starbucks coffee mug in the corner reflected his one leap to modern conveniences. Kat had wondered when Nick would make the room his own. Now she just wondered why he was staring.
She’d positioned her desk precisely so she could see out her door into the workroom and keep abreast of the traffic, not aware that put her in view of anyone in Nick’s office. Until he’d come to work there it hadn’t mattered. Now she was torn. On most days she enjoyed his appreciative glances, but today it caused guilt, as if he could see her ignoring the note.
She realized she might as well tell Nick about the threat. He was scowling. Maybe he figured she wasn’t a very productive writer. She liked her job and didn’t want to give him a bad impression. The truth was probably the best solution.
She gave herself a few minutes to analyze the possibilities. No denying it was for her. With her full name typed clearly across the envelope. But what had she done? Or rather, which of the things she’d done triggered the ... Read more