Page 48 of Havenfall Harbor
The floor is spotless, even the carpet is stain free. I’m relieved I don’t need to clean it up, but I feel a wave of resentment toward Griffin that he did this, or had this done, I should say, and now I have to be thankful to the mercurial asshole.
I take a steadying breath before walking into the room. My steps are slow, cautious, as I peer around. Everything feels different now. I knew someone was in here the first night, but it still didn’t feel like mine then. I had just moved in, this feels more like a violation of my space.
My phone is on the kitchen counter with no evidence it was in my back pocket last night and landed in a puddle of blood.
I want another shower just thinking about it, but not here. I make my way past the living area and head to my bedroom. I get stuck standing in the door for a moment. I don’t even know if anyone was in here, or what they did if they were?
Pushing past my reluctance to enter, I shove myself through the door and pull open the closet. I grab the first pair of jeans my hand touches and an old college sweatshirt I stole from the last guy I dated. It’s way too big, but just the right amount of comfort I need right now.
After changing in the bathroom, I snag my phone and keys off the counter then hustle out the door, not caring that my hair is a mess or bothering to lock the room. Who knows if it got fixed after Griffin broke it? Wouldn’t matter. Whoever keeps getting in here must have a fucking key anyway.
I bounce down the stairs, wondering why I have to go down to the main floor just to go right back up to the third floor. I guess less doors means less points of entry for those not supposed to be here, but come on.
With a single-minded focus, I head up to my office. I shouldn’t have slept so late. I’m going to need to make several calls to reschedule the kids I had planned to see today, but I have another call to make first.
“Hello?”
“I need to speak with Director Stone.” I don’t give the woman on the line a chance to deny me.
“He’s not in today. Would you like to leave a message?” Her voice doesn’t hold the same contempt Millie’s does.
I swallow a sigh, of course he’s not in today. “May I have his direct email or number?” I ask hopefully.
“I’d be happy to relay a message for you.” She avoids my question. You’d think someone in Stone’s position would make himself a little more available.
“If there’s no way I could speak to him directly…” I let the sentence hang for a moment. When she doesn’t respond, I say, “I suppose. This is Quinn Shaw, and I need to know who I can talk to about changing rooms.” Saying it out loud makes me feel slightly juvenile. “Until I can get a more secure lock,” I add hastily.
“Oh, I see. I’ll give him the message as soon as he becomes available.”
“Could you give him my number please? I’d really like to speak to him directly.” At least it seems like she’ll actually give the Director my message. I’m not sure Millie would even do that much.
“Yes, the number you called from, Ms. Shaw?”
“Yes please, he can call anytime. Thank you.” I place the phone back in the cradle and pinch my temples between my fingers.
I thought the dead pig would be a single incident, especially since so much time has passed and nothing else happened.
I mean, how ridiculous. What do they think they’re going to accomplish by pouring blood all over my floor? I feel more threatened that someone was in my room again after knowing I locked the door. That makes me feel unsafe.
I hate that half the staff probably already knows. Griffin obviously can’t keep his mouth shut, he told Evan about the first incident, so it stands to reason he knows about this too. I need someone to talk to about this who isn’t Griffin, and I don’t want to take the drama to Alice, so the choice is easy.
I put my phone back to my ear and hesitate. Should I really ask him for help? The first number is the hardest to dial, after that it becomes easier.
“Hello?” Evan answers on the second ring.
“Hey, it’s Quinn. Sorry to bother you, but do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“I’m just finishing something. You in your room?”
“No,” I scoff. “I’m in my office actually. I can come—” I don’t get to finish before there’s a hard rapping on my mostly closed door. “Sorry, just a…” My sentence trails off when Evan sticks his head in my office. I look at the phone still in my hand.
“I was close by.” I watch as Evan places his phone back on his belt, he has a clip that allows it to hang off his hip like a walkie-talkie.
“Talk about quick service.” I try to lighten my mood, but it comes out sounding rather suspicious.
Evan’s eyes search my face. “I was heading next door.”
“Sorry.” I shake my head and get to my feet, inviting Evan to take a seat in one of the chairs with a wave of my hand.
