Trudy crouched underneath her desk. With each scream that punched through the door to her office, she cowered farther into the back corner.

The evening had started off perfectly normal. At five o’clock she’d heard the exchanges of ‘goodbye’ and ‘goodnight’. Some of her employees had stopped by her desk, the only one in the small suite that she rented in a building on the outskirts of downtown Jacksonville, Florida. Lucia Black, her office manager and assistant, had been the last one to leave the office. She had visited briefly to talk about the blind date that her mom had set her up on, and she’d asked Trudy about her plans, which were always the same—working. There wouldn’t be a fancy dinner with a hot guy for her. Trudy had prepared to pull an all-nighter on a project for a new client.

Trudy didn’t mind the long hours and weekends she’d given up to complete the job. Getting it done fast and right was her main priority. It also meant the possibility of more work from Dark Wolf Enterprises, a multi-billion-dollar private investment firm, being shifted her way. And there was a clause in the contract between Dark Wolf Enterprises and Hollander Accounting that outlined the bonuses Trudy would receive if the work was completed before the deadline. Trudy didn’t intend to rush through the account, but she did intend to get the twenty-thousand-dollar bonus for finishing the job within the month.

After the lights had dimmed, she’d gotten out of her comfy leather office chair for only a second. The muscles in her legs, knotted from hours of sitting, had objected, but if she hadn’t closed her office door she would have been disturbed by the loud music and talking from the cleaning crew when they’d come in.

They’d been and gone, not disturbing her at all. She’d told them before to leave her alone if they found her working late in her closed office. After the noise from beyond her door had died down and it had been silent once more, she had pressed on, eager to work through the audit in complete silence. No further distractions.

Two hours later, everything had gone to Hell on a rocket.

An exchange of voices had been the first thing to capture her attention. The noise from the rows of cubicles on the other side of the door hadn’t started out as blood-curdling screams. No. First, there had been talking, loud enough that she had been able to hear the voices, but hadn’t been able to make out what had been said. She was used to some of her employees staying late to finish assignments, but she’d assumed everyone had gone home. Only a few of her seven employees would stay to work this long after quitting time. She’d recognized one of the voices as belonging to Mark Taylor.

Mark was one of the accountants she’d hired a year ago, when business had really begun to pick up. Normally, he was a quiet man. He came to work every day in a formal shirt with matching tie, dress slacks and dress shoes, even though her dress code policy was pretty casual. He had a wife, Alice, and a special needs kid, Ernie, at home. If Trudy needed someone to do overtime on any projects, she knew he was the man. The hospital and specialist bills racked up for Ernie, so he and Alice needed all the extra income they could get.

While the lateness of his working hours wasn’t unusual for him, the yelling and arguing definitely was. When she’d first heard Mark’s voice booming through the office, questions had arisen in her mind. Who was he yelling at? Was he arguing with another employee? She hadn’t thought so. She had a pretty small staff and everyone got along great. Plus, she really hadn’t been able to recognize any of the other voices, which had distinctive foreign accents. What were Russians doing here? She didn’t have any Russian employees or clients.

Realizing she would have to stop working and investigate, she’d gotten up with the intent of kicking Mark and his rowdy guests out. With her hand on the door, ready to turn the knob, she had frozen in place at the sound of a scream.

It hadn’t been a normal ‘I fell down and I need help’ scream. No, it had been more like an ‘I’m being killed’ scream. At that point, she’d done what any good, law-abiding coward would’ve done. She’d run and hidden.

“Don’t kill me! I swear I’ll get it for you!” Mark’s pleas snapped her attention back to the present.

Whimpering, she put one shaking hand over her mouth. She’d been listening to him beg for his life for the past three minutes. She knew the exact time, because she’d also kept her eyes on her smart watch. The three minutes had felt like three hours. When another bloodcurdling scream had rung out, her other hand had tightened around the cell phone that she’d held in her sweaty grasp.

“Ms. Hollander, are they still there?” the male on the other end of the line asked. He was so calm, but his calmness didn’t penetrate the airwaves to relax her.

After she’d cowered safely underneath her desk, her next action had been to grab her phone and call the police. Since then, the dispatcher had kept her on the line and sane while he promised the police were on their way.

“Y-y-yes,” she whispered. Prickly heat and sweat formed across her hairline.

“Hold tight, the police are downstairs. They’ll be there soon.”

She closed her eyes and said a small prayer. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“She isn’t here,” Mark cried out. His voice sounded wet and there was no mistaking the pain laced through every word. “She went home early.”

She opened her eyes wide. Who is he talking about? Was someone else in the office involved in this madness? Before she could run off the names of her female employees in her head, Mark screamed again.

“I promise I can get to the files without harming her,” Mark strained to say.

“Not good enough,” A thickly accented man replied, the same one who’d done most of the talking. “We need her dead. A message must be sent.”

Who dead? What message?

Mark screamed in agony again.

She could figure out what was going later, after Mark was saved. Trudy sniffed and ran an arm across her dampened forehead. Help was coming. Whoever was beating up Mark would be caught and jailed.

“Ms. Hollander, are you still with me?”

“I’m here,” she whispered. “They want to kill someone—a female.”

“Don’t you concern yourself with that now,” the dispatcher said. “The police are right outside the door of your business.”

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re going to hear a lot of loud noise,” the dispatcher continued. “Some yelling, and you might even hear some gunfire.”

“Guns?” she asked shakily.

Her desk was made out of thick wood but it definitely wouldn’t stop a bullet. She pressed herself into the ‘V’ of the back corner.

“Try not to worry. Your job is to stay exactly where you are and don’t move. The officers know there are civilians in the office. The guns are a last resort.”

“Okay.” She tried to sound brave when all she wanted to do was get the hell out of her office and as far away from all of this as she possibly could. Her heart slammed against her chest so hard that it hurt to breathe.

“That’s my girl. Don’t worry, we’ll get the bad guys.”

She had a small office. There was one way in and one way out. Whoever was in here was trapped. Or rather, she was trapped. Her breath hitched. What if the bad guys wanted to take her and Mark as hostages?

Shit.

She eyed the window. Remembering it was three stories up with parking lot pavement below quickly changed her mind about its viability as an exit. Even if she wanted to use it as an escape, it was out of the question.

A loud crash and shattering glass made her jump. She held her breath. This was it.

“Police! Put your hands up!”

They’re here. It’s safe.

“There’s no way out. It’s over!”

That’s it. Put your hands up and walk to the police. Let them handcuff you and take you to jail.

A rapid succession of what sounded like firecrackers rang out. Shots.

She used her free arm to shield her head. Another loud crash. The noises that had been distant and muffled before were now loud and clear.

Holy shit. They broke down my door.

She heard heavy breathing and footsteps running into her office.

“Over there! Window!”

She recognized the voice as the one who’d been arguing with Mark. Or perhaps torturing him was a better description.

Those are the bad guys.

She held her breath as she watched two males run up to her window. There they tore down the venetian blinds with one tug, sending the mangled mess to the floor in front of her. She pressed her hand to her mouth to suppress the scream that was just behind her lips.

Now wouldn’t be the right time to tell the pair that the window wasn’t an option, especially since being three stories off the ground didn’t seem to matter to them. Without hesitating, they opened the sliding glass, tore out the screen and jumped over the ledge, one following the other.

She felt no urge to run to the window to make sure the men were all right. The thought of seeing two splattered bodies painting the parking lot red kept her rooted in place.

There were more footsteps. Men ran toward the window. She recognized the dark blue uniform immediately. Cops.

“They jumped. Are they dead?” she whispered to the two police officers.

The cops didn’t turn around to glance at her. Their attention remained outside. “Where the hell did they go?” one asked the other.

“Wait, see that? Over there. Is that them?” the other asked in disbelief, pointing into the distance.

“How the hell did they survive the jump and run away?”

“They’re not dead?” she asked again, louder.

Noticing her for the first time, the police officers turned to look around the room.

She waved her free hand in front of her face. “Down here,” she said, still not making any moves to leave her safe haven.

As one officer began speaking into a walkie-talkie, giving a description of the leaping pair, the other came toward her and crouched. “Ms. Gertrude Hollander?”

Her lips quivered as she tried to smile. “Trudy,” she corrected him. She hated her full name.

“Trudy, come out. It’s safe now,” the officer urged.

Safe?

Her hands still shook uncontrollably. She sure didn’t feel safe.

“You’re in good hands, Ms. Hollander. I’m going to disconnect the call now,” the dispatcher on the other end of her cell phone said.

She held the phone up to her ear, too afraid to give up her lifeline so easily.

“Hang up? Should I stay on the line?” she asked the dispatcher.

“Everything is fine. Hang up. You did a good job,” the dispatcher said.

“Okay, then,” she said, even though she really didn’t want to disconnect.

She lowered the phone from her ear and terminated the call.

“I should have asked him his name,” she said, staring down at the home screen picture on her phone. Blue skies and blue ocean, with a glimpse of the mountains in the background. It was a snapshot of Montego Bay, Jamaica. She’d gone there as a college graduation present. Her parents had raided their savings to send her, and it had been her last vacation. Oh, how she wished she was there now. “I should thank him for staying on the line with me. What does one do in situations like this? Gift basket? Flowers? Fruit basket?”

The officer held out his hand and wiggled his fingers. “Come on out. Don’t worry about the dispatcher, it’s his job.”

Surely he didn’t get many calls like hers. “I still…” She bit her lower lip.

“Come on,” he said.

With his coaxing, she crawled from underneath her desk, phone in hand. The officer helped her to her feet.

He eyed her up and down. “Are you okay? Did they harm you?”

She shook her head and gave a weak smile. “No, no, I’m fine.” A shiver ran down her spine. Suddenly, she felt so cold. She wrapped her arms around her body, but the coldness remained. “How is Mark? It sounds like they were working him over pretty good. He may need an ambulance.”

The officers exchanged quick glances.

“They had him out there.” Trudy nodded to the main office. “If you didn’t see him, he’s probably hiding under something like I was.”

“Ma’am, why don’t you have a seat?” The officer who’d helped her from under her desk pulled up a chair.

Even though she didn’t want to sit, she found her bottom planted firmly on the soft leather.

“Can the paramedics come up now?” a voice crackled from the officer’s walkie-talkie.

The other officer turned his back to her and said, “Send the coroner.”

Coroner? Mark’s dead?

She swiveled toward her broken-down office door and panicked. “No, he was just alive. I heard him talking…screaming…begging…”

Her stomach lurched and the Greek chicken salad she’d had for lunch came up with force. It must’ve been the warning look on her face, because the officer grabbed her small waste basket and held it under her chin just as vomit erupted from her throat.

“Ugh.” Another forceful eruption was followed by another, and yet another. Her stomach knotted in pain and her throat burned. “No, please tell me this didn’t happen,” she cried. She clutched the waste basket for support.

She vaguely heard the officer ask someone to hand him a napkin. He spoke to her in calming tones as he wiped her mouth and removed the basket from her clutches.

By the time she gave her statement, she was a sniveling mess. One of her employees had been murdered, in her office, outside her door, while she’d listened. What was the protocol for this type of thing? Who would contact his wife? Oh, God, his child.

Trudy felt herself losing it again. She searched around her office wildly. She needed to get away from here.

“Trudy, the paramedics are here. Do you need them to take care of you?”

She stared blankly at the officer. “No, I’m fine. I need to go home. M-my dog. I need to let her out,” she mumbled.

“We can finish up the questions tomorrow. You’ve had a long night.”

She nodded. A ‘long night’ didn’t describe what she’d just been through. She stood to leave and her legs threatened to buckle under her.

The officer reached to hold her up. “Wait a minute. Maybe we’d better have you checked out, after all.”

“No.” She locked her knees. All she wanted to do was go home. “I’m fine.” She moved the officer’s hands away from her.

“I’ll lead you out. I think it’s best if you close your eyes while we exit the office.”

“Why?” She closed her laptop and stuffed it into her bag as quickly as she could.

“Um…”

She froze and closed her eyes. She felt the room sway. “How bad is it?”

She hadn’t even thought to ask about the crime scene before.

“They, well, ah, they sliced him up pretty bad.”

Her legs weakened again and again the officer used his hands to grip under her arms, stopping her from falling.

“We can leave you the number for a good clean-up crew. They can come by tomorrow and make it look like nothing ever happened here. But you’ll need a handyman to fix the door and window.”

She shook her head. “Tomorrow… I, we’re open tomorrow.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think that’s wise? It might take a day or two for the cleanup and repairs.”

“Um.” Her head felt muddled with confusion. Of course she would need to close. What was she thinking?

“You’re right. Tomorrow is Thursday. That will give the maid service and building maintenance enough time to clean and make repairs by Monday. I’ll call the rest of my employees when I get home and let them know that the office is closed.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

She straightened and dropped her phone into her purse. “Um, what about Mark’s wife Alice? Should I call her too…or…?”

“We’ll go by and give her the bad news.”

She gave a short nod. She’d given them all of Mark’s information during her questioning.

“I-I’ll still call her and offer my condolences.”

“I think that’s a fine idea.”

She took one last look around her office. How could she ever sit here again without thinking about what had happened to Mark? She took a deep breath. She would never forget. “I’m ready to go now.”

“All right,” the officer said. “Close your eyes and I’ll lead you out.”