The Delivery Girl

11. Detective

Callen

"Hello?"

I raise an eyebrow but press the button on my desk phone anyways. "Yes, Miss Leong?" She's not meant to call me much in general, Hayley's still the one who's supposed to handle communication with me.

"Oh shoot, sorry, Mr. Sterling! I could've sworn I dialed the right number – I meant to call someone downstairs," she apologizes sheepishly. "I would've asked for help, but Hayley's in the washroom."

"That's fine," I try to reassure her, though I doubt I sound very reassuring at all. I was in the middle of reading a dense contract – I really need to hire a full time lawyer for this – and I've almost definitely lost my train of thought. "The grey button will call the number you dialed, the white will go directly to me. I suggest you label them."

"O-of course!"

She's new, I try to calmly remind myself. How long has she been here anyways? A week or two maybe?

I hear Jacob knock and call from outside my door, "Callen, are you ready to head out yet?"

I let out a heavy sigh, hoping he can hear me and my discontent. "Yeah, coming," I grumble. I grab my car keys and coat.

Hayley and Julie look up as I enter the foyer. "I'll be gone for half an hour or so," I say.

Hayley raises an eyebrow. "Where are you going? You don't have anything on your calendar." I'm sure she's currently thinking that I'm an idiot who doesn't know my own schedule.

"It's a... private appointment. Please don't forward any calls to my personal phone while I'm gone."

She gives me a look, and I already know she's going to pry it out of me later.

–

"This is it?" I say as we stop in front of a brightly coloured pet store. A playpen of dalmatian puppies in the front window stare at me.

"Sort of," Jacob says, holding the door open for me. "His office is in the back."

Birds immediately begin chirping at us as soon as we step in. They quickly blend into the obnoxious noises of the animals. A chorus of meowing, barking, squeaking, and rattling toys and cages. The smell of wet cat food hangs in the stuffy, hot air.

"I have twenty minutes before I need to head back to the office," I quietly remind him. "Let's keep this quick."

I follow him to the very back of the store to a dark, dingy corner. He knocks on a worn, wooden door I wouldn't even have noticed at first glance. If we were in a horror movie, we would definitely be moments away from being murdered.

"James? It's Jacob," he calls against the door.

"Come in," a voice quietly calls back.

I raise my eyebrows as we enter the dimly lit room. A room may be an overstatement, it's more of a nook you'd find under a set of stairs.

A short, skinny man dressed in an oversized tweed coat promptly greets us, extending his hand for a handshake. "Hello! You must be Callen. I'm detective James Carne," he says excitedly. "Please come in."

I try not to scoff as he leads us to a small, round table crammed into the middle of the room. Jacob and I have to crouch to avoid hitting our heads against the wooden ceiling slats. James grabs a nearby trash bin and brushes the crumbs and empty chip bags and candy wrappers off the table.

Jacob places two notes onto the table; the first one that appeared in the office a few weeks ago, and the one in the letter I opened. "Here's the situation," he says, "Callen has been receiving threats, and we have no clue as to who could be sending them. I called the cops but-"