This is a Warning

Part 1

With clenched teeth I swallow the lump in my throat and try to control my trembling as I stare at the slip of paper in my hands.

You have been avoiding me, Logan.
This is a warning.
Ignore me again, and no one will ever find your body.
Pay attention.

———

My day started out normal. There was nothing out of the ordinary when I started my morning routine at 5:00 a.m., or when I ate my breakfast of a bagel and strong black coffee. I was out the door and on my way to work at 7:00. I live a ways outside of town, so the drive to work takes me about fifty minutes. Most of the drive is on rough country roads, but the last bit is on busy highways and right through downtown. On the way I listened to the radio, the same station as every other day. There didn't seem to be anything overly interesting going on, no serial killers or escaped convicts on the loose or anything, nothing that would have made me worry for my life. Just an interview with some Detective Ashby, who was recently promoted to Head Detective.

I pulled into the parking lot of Equinox, the firm where I work, and still nothing seemed out of place. I was among some of the first to arrive, as usual, which gave me time to stop and pick up another coffee from the shop across the street.

———

The office was set up in a large room with each person at separate desks in our own cubicle. My desk is located at the back of the room, near the restrooms, which means any number of people would be walking back and forth past it all day long. Anybody could have slipped the note onto my desk, either this morning before I got here or yesterday evening after I left. Then there's also the cleaning crew that works at night.

I glance around the room. Almost everyone is here by now, some have started the morning's work already and others are chatting over the short cubicle walls with cups of crappy coffee from the office kitchen. No one is looking in my direction, so I return my gaze to the crinkled note and reread the message. The hastily handwritten lettering is a little smudged where I had been gripping it with my sweaty hands. Releasing a shaky breath, I fold the paper back into the uneven quarters I found it in and tuck it away in my desk drawer. As soon as it is out of sight, I readjust my glasses and straighten my tie.

This must be some sort of sick joke. Yes, that must be it. I roll my shoulders back to loosen the tight muscle and press my fingers to my temples, trying to deter an oncoming migraine. This is going to be a long day.