Either way, she didn’t have time to see him.
She logged onto her blog first and wrote about the success of their first night. Marjorie had sent her a file of action shots that dated back from when the restaurant still looked like Baratellis to their soft opening earlier in the week. She wished Marjorie could have stayed for tonight, but her new project in the city called her back.
When she was nearly done, a pair of bright headlights illuminated the window that faced the parking lot. Kait looked up hopefully at the slam of the car door and put aside her laptop when the footsteps stopped at her front door. She waited expectantly for Landon’s familiar knock, but none came.
For a few seconds, she convinced herself that wasn’t strange. He was finishing up a text or an email. Any second now…
But the seconds stretched out, turned into a minute, and then another. With numb hands, Kaitlyn reached for her computer again and settled it on her lap. It wasn’t Landon. It was someone else, and that person already walked by. You just didn’t hear him, she tried to tell herself through the jumble in her head. He’s already in his apartment. No one is outside your door.
Kaitlyn published her post without proofreading it and moved over to the cookbook file. Her heart rate had just begun to slow when suddenly, she heard the footsteps again. They started at her front door, stopped when a car door slammed, and then the headlights filled her window again.
Kaitlyn held her breath until she heard the car reverse out of the spot and pull into traffic. Someone had been standing outside her door, but why? Had it been Landon? Was he leaving her a note instead of texting for some reason? Surely he’d seen that her lamp was on—why hadn’t he just come in?
After two full minutes of staring at the window, her breath coming in shallow gasps, she gathered her frayed nerves and got off the couch. She looked through the peephole first, then out of the curtains. She didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean—
No, Kaitlyn told herself firmly. He’s gone.
Unless he parked on the other side and walked back around and is just waiting for me to open the door.
Kaitlyn crept back to the couch and grabbed her phone. She dialed 91, then with her finger poised over the second ‘1’, jerked open the door. Her eyes twitched left then right, ensuring that no one had pressed themselves up against the brick wall. Then she frowned into the parking lot. It was well lit, and there weren’t many cars in it tonight. Nowhere close by for anyone to hide. Some of her fear subsiding, she stepped out onto the front stoop and looked around for something to explain the mysterious person’s presence.
For a moment, she thought there was nothing. Then she spotted the manilla envelope propped up against the brick wall beside her door. She hesitated.
It’s just an envelope, Kait. It can’t hurt you.
Unless it’s anthrax.
Ignoring the second voice, Kait seized it between her fingers then backed into her apartment and slammed the door.
“Just a routine delivery,” she said aloud. “He was probably making sure he was at the right address.”
But the front of the envelope was blank.
And it’s the middle of the night.
Before she could spook herself any further, Kaitlyn ripped it open and shook out the contents onto the coffee table.
It was two newspaper articles and a note. One brand new and cut from the New York Post, and the other was a print off from the New Canton Times dated fifteen years prior. The note, written on lined paper in cramped handwriting, said: Notice any similarities?
In the elevator of the Atlantia condo building, Kaitlyn nearly pressed the wrong button. Hastily, she dragged her finger from the 8 to the 6. Landon was the last person she wanted to see right now.
It took Gray a while to come to the door, though she’d called and texted him that she was on her way over. When he finally opened the door, his eyes were half closed, and the condo was completely dark.
“What the hell, Kait?” He said, his voice still froggy with sleep. “What’s wrong?”
Pushing past him, Kait flipped on the lights and handed him the envelope. “This is what’s wrong.”
She watched Gray’s face as he read the headlines she knew by heart.
Local Landmark Plagued by Scandal
Did a Billionaire Sabotage 1358?
“This is about LeClarks,” Gray said slowly, skimming the first. He looked at the other, then up at her for an explanation.
“And that one is about Basil Hampton’s restaurant,” Kaitlyn said tightly.
Gray mouth hardened as he read it then the note. “Notice any similarities?”
“Landon is the similarity,” Kaitlyn said and jabbed at the headline. “He’s the billionaire Page Six thinks is behind the closing of Basil Hampton’s restaurant. Look at all the things he’s accused of doing. Getting his friends to spread rumors, raising the rent. What does that sound like?”
“It sounds like what happened to LeClarks,” Gray admitted. “But how do you know he’s the billionaire they’re talking about?”
Silently, Kaitlyn pointed to a bolded name.
Simone Dexter
“Simone is married?” Gray said, surprised. “To an actress? I thought—”
“So did I,” Kaitlyn said impatiently. “It doesn’t matter though. The point is, Landon has to be behind it. See where they mentioned Rathskeller at the bottom?”
Gray skimmed down. “‘I smell a rat’ might not mean Rathskeller,” he said unconvincingly. He looked through the pages again. “Where did you get this anyway?”
Kaitlyn shivered as she told him about the stranger who had stood silently at her door for so long, and Gray’s forehead creased with concern. “We
