Page 33 of Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad World

“Hey!” Logan complained. “I’m not the one who wants to turn this building into a jungle gym.”

“You know,” Evan said, “there’s that big pit in the loading area behind the shop. One side of it slopes down from the rolling door. If we tiled it and fitted it out, it’d make a perfect swimming pool.”

The men groaned while Annabelle smiled. “I used to love to swim.”

“Then you should think about it,” Evan said seriously. “What was that pit used for anyway?”

“I’m not sure. I think it had something to do with horses and carts. To make it easier to lead them down into that area, so that loading the carts would be faster. But I wouldn’t testify to that in court.” She swallowed hard, the words a stark reminder about what was to come.

It seemed the guys hadn’t missed what she’d said either, as they all turned somber.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Logan said. “If you can’t leave the building, how will you testify?”

“Video link.”

“Makes sense.”

“What did you see anyway?” Evan asked as he swung past.

Annabelle stilled while stirring the rich and meaty tomato sauce as memories of that night rushed back to her. Apart from when she was kidnapped, she’d never been so scared as when she witnessed that man’s death.

“You don’t have to answer that.” Noah glared at Evan, who was oblivious.

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “It’s okay. I need to get used to talking about it.”

Annabelle turned off the burner under the pasta pot and reached for the strainer.

“Let me.” Noah had appeared at her side, and she hadn’t even noticed he’d moved from the sofa.

“Thanks.” Leaving him to drain the pasta, she took a seat at the island. “I have a weird sleeping schedule sometimes, like when I’m on a deadline or there’s a lot of stuff fighting for space in my head. It means I’m often up at strange hours, but since I’m the only person in the building and there’s no one to disturb, I don’t really give it too much thought.”

Annabelle watched Noah stir the thick ragù sauce before turning off the burner under that pan too. He faced her, leaning back against the counter, his arms folded over another faded T-shirt. Evan, who’d stopped swinging and come into the kitchen, pulled out a stool and sat beside her. Harris and Logan also gave her their full attention.

She should have felt self-conscious, but instead, she felt protected. It was a good feeling, one she held close and cherished.

“So,” she continued, “one night, I was pacing the loft, trying to figure out a plot point in my latest graphic novel, when I heard shouting outside. My lights were off because there was plenty of light coming in from the streetlamps, and I like it that way. Also, it makes my building appear empty. Not that anyone would expect someone to be living here.” She shrugged. “My mailman tells me there aren’t many people living in these few blocks. It’s mostly businesses with set hours. And, to be honest, with the state of the shop downstairs, most people would think the warehouse is abandoned anyway.”

“Which means someone up to no good might think this was a quiet, out-of-the-way place to do what they liked,” Harris said. “Conveniently witness-free.”

“Exactly.” Annabelle nodded. “I noticed the noise first. They were shouting, and it was scary. I mean, it wasn’t like rowdy drunk people or something; it was fighting. So I went to the window to see what was going on, but I kinda stood to one side because I didn’t want anyone to see me.”

“Smart move,” Noah murmured.

“There were five men in the alley between the buildings across the street,” Annabelle continued.

“The one where Violet hid behind the dumpster?” Noah asked.

“No, on that street.” She pointed to the long side of the building. “One of the men was backed up against the wall and clearly terrified. Another man stood in front of him, quite close. The other three men were fanned out behind him. They kept looking around, like they were ensuring they were alone.”

Annabelle took a deep breath and clasped her hands in front of her on the counter. They were shaking, and she hoped no one noticed. To her surprise, Noah moved away from the counter, leaned over the island, and covered her hands with his.

“It’s a normal reaction,” he said softly. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Thanks,” she whispered before continuing. “The guy intimidating the man against the wall wore a black muscle shirt. His head was shaven, and tattoos ran up the side of his neck and down his arms. He was too far away for me to make them out, but he was still very distinctive.

“As I watched, he shouted some more, then spat at the man against the wall. By this time, the cornered man was begging, holding up his hands as if surrendering.” She licked her dry lips, and Harris filled a glass with water and placed it in front of her.

“Thanks,” she said, but she didn’t want to move her hands from Noah’s to pick it up. “It all happened so fast after that. The guy in the muscle shirt?—”