Page 2 of Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad World

“Boy Scout,” she muttered as she carried on breaking in.

Noah longed for the good old days when Violet barely spoke to her teammates. He stared up at the camera. “If you’re watching, we’re security specialists with Benson Security and former cops. We’ve been sent here by your contact in the Harris County district attorney’s office, and our orders are to ensure your safety. Your location’s been compromised. We are not breaking in to harm you, only to check on you.”

“You about done?” Violet frowned at him. “Can we get this woman out of here now?” She swung the door wide.

Noah reluctantly followed her into the store, making sure to close and lock the door behind him. While he doubted there was anything in the shop to tempt a thief, this wasn’t the greatest of areas, and junkies weren’t known for being picky.

Violet gave the dust-covered stock a look of disgust. “I can’t believe I’m missingThe Bachelorfor a babysitting job.”

Okay, he did a double take at that little piece of info. “You watchThe Bachelor?” For some reason, he’d assumed she only watched documentaries about serial killers or YouTube videos of preppers turning everyday objects into weapons.

“It’s psychology in action.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “So many personality disorders in one place, all being examined under the camera.”

“Ah, so you watch it for the romance,” he teased.

She shot him her trademarked “look of death.”

“So.” Seeing as Violet’s nickname on the Scottish force had beenViolentLee, Noah thought it best to change the subject. “According to the new boss, ourbabysittinggig lives on the top floor.”

“Then we go up.” She pushed the door to the stairwell open.

The stairwell was wide, and its walls inlaid with Art Deco tiles in various shades of blue. It was the kind of decorative touch you’d never see in a newer industrial building, where everything was concrete and metal. It made Noah wonder when exactly builders had decided that functional meant ugly.

“In a few years, when gentrification has made it this far into the Warehouse District, this building will probably sell for a fortune and be converted into trendy condos.” He ran his fingertips over the tiles. “Then the place will be overrun with avocado-toast-eating, micro-brewery snobs who won’t appreciate its history.” He gestured to a plaque inlaid into the wall:Watson & Co, Exotic Imports Ltd, est. 1905.“Wonder what they imported.”

“Avocados?” Violet suggested, her expression deadpan.

“And here I was thinking you didn’t have a sense of humor,” Noah said.

“I don’t.” Came the flat reply.

They pushed open the wide door to the second floor but found only a corridor filled with abandoned offices.

“Nobody’s been in here in a long time.” Violet pointed to the undisturbed layer of dust on the floor. “What a waste.”

They carried on to the top floor. This time, there was no corridor, just a small lobby area and a reinforced steel door.

“This is more like it.” Violet retrieved her picks and eyed the multiple locks.

“We knock first,” Noah ordered, doing exactly that.

There was no reply. He dug out his phone and called the client’s number again while Violet blithely set about breaking and entering. A faint ringing sounded inside the apartment, but no one answered.

“Phone’s in there.”Nowhe was worried. They had scant information, only that the woman was the key witness in a high-profile case and that some very dangerous people wanted to stop her from testifying. Unfortunately, there was a leak in the DA’s office or law enforcement, so those dangerous people now knew where she lived—not to mention that she wasn’t likely to run from them. Apparently, Annabelle Simmons hadn’t left her apartment in years.

“We’re probably too late,” Violet said. “Do we still get paid if the client’s dead?”

“She isn’t the client. She’s a witness. The client is the DA’s office. And if they’ve killed her, why lock up on the way out?”

“Why do killers do anything? Because they want to, that’s why.” She pushed the door open. “Whoa, not what I was expecting. I thought this chick was a housebound senior, but this place is yuppie heaven.”

“Nobody says yuppie anymore,” Noah muttered as he looked around. He had to agree with Violet, though. This wasn’t what he’d expected either—especially given the unkempt state of the other two floors.

Almost the entire top floor of the building had been turned into one vast open-plan space—aside from a couple of doors set in a plain white wall at the far end of the room, which Noah assumed led to a bathroom and storage. Oversized windows lined three walls, although one set looked out onto the brick wall of the neighboring building. Three massive skylights set at equal intervals in the high ceiling allowed a pristine view of the night sky. Support columns broke up the space, with partitions separating sections according to their function.

To their right, in the area directly above the shop, sat three sofas, several low tables, stuffed bookcases, an array of green plants, and an impressively large TV. The middle section contained a kitchen area against a three-quarter-height brick wall, which created a wide corridor between the kitchen and the windows facing the building next door. Yet more plants topped this wall, and two enormous potted trees sat at either end. Appliances ran along the dividing wall while an island counter faced it, and an old wooden dining table sat on the other side of the island, close to the windows that overlooked the street.

Just beyond the kitchen was a workspace, partially shielded from view by two rolling wooden screens with intricate cutout designs. Behind the screens were two drawing tables, a multi-monitor computer setup, and easels holding memo boards covered in pinned images. Beyond the work area was a more permanent partition made of glass bricks, and through the glass, Noah could make out the outline of a bed. To the left of the bed area, in the corner near the doors, was a treadmill and an exercise ball. And right in the middle of the whole space, behind the partial wall that divided off the kitchen, an old-fashioned swing hung from the ceiling. Plants were dotted everywhere, and the walls held an array of framed artwork in bright colors.