After meeting with Iris back at Specter to update her on Calvin Yates, you had then left the office as quickly as possible, taking the sticky note with Kirby's details that you had scribbled from the email Patrick had sent..
Walking up to the door of your apartment, you spy a white envelope that peeks from the letter-slot.. You snatch the envelope up as you fit the key into the lock and push your way into your chic, Midtown, two bedroom apartment ..
You drop the keys on the entry side-table, unbuttoning two more buttons of your blouse as you step out of your bubblegum coloured heels, the arches of your feet immediately soothed by the cool floorboards..
Making your way to the kitchen, you drop the envelope on the counter before pouring a couple of fingers of whiskey, neat. Continuing through to the sofa in the living room, you set your drink on the coffee table and sink into the soft oversized cushions, pulling the sticky note and your cell out of your clutch and dialing Kirby's number..
No point putting it off.. Especially since the envelope currently burning a hole in your kitchen counter, most likely contains that subpoena Elijah was talking about..
It rings once..
"Kirby Carter.." She answers so bluntly you wonder if she is expecting somebody else.. Somebody she doesn't like.. At least that's what you hope..
"Hi Kriby. Ellerie Devereux, Patrick O'connor gave me your--" She makes a 'mhhmm' sound as if she is in the middle of a snack before she replies with a giggle.. You can immediately tell you're going to like her..
"Ah, yes Ellerie! O'connor did tell me you'd call, wasn't expecting it to be so soon!"
Fidgeting with nervous energy, you scrunch the sticky note into a tight ball absentmindedly, uncrumpling it and smoothing it out against your thigh immediately after.. "If I'm honest, neither was I.. But it's kind of time sensitive.. I've been subpoenaed by the FBI and need somebody to represent me.."
She is quiet for a moment, but you can hear the tapping of computer keys at a rapid fire pace.. "Alright.. And.. What is the date of the hearing?"
You sigh.. Heaving yourself up from the sofa and heading back towards the kitchen.. "I'm not sure.. I haven't opened the letter yet.. I have it here, ill just--" As you tear open the end of the envelope, a dozen small squares of paper fall out and scatter across the hardwood floor at your feet.. This isn't a subpoena.. You don't know what the hell it is.. You turn the envelope over but there is no return address and no stamp.. Which means this letter was personally delivered by somebody.. "Sorry, Kirby.. It's not--I was mistaken, the subpoena hasn't arrived yet.."
She types away some more, keys clattering.. "That's good.. It gives us more time to prepare.. I've rescheduled some things.. Can I get you to come to my office tomorrow afternoon, around one?"
You bend down to pick up one of the papers.. Turning it over in your hand, your heart stops and the hair on the back of your neck prickles.. "Yes.. Thank you.. Bye.."
You must seem crazy as you mumble the words disjointedly and hang up before she can reply..
But the photograph in your hand doesn't make sense..
It's a picture of you.. Outside of your apartment, getting into your car.. "What the hell.."
You drop to your knees, turning each of the photos over to expose picture after picture of yourself, some of them taken at your gym, some at your favourite cafe and there is one image in particular that chills you to your very bones..
A photograph of you, sleeping in your bed..
And from the angle of the shot, it must have been taken from inside the closet..
You drop the stack of pictures and spring to your feet like in a flash.. Scrambling across the kitchen you pull your backup pistol from the hide beneath the sink, the slate grey steel fitting comfortably in your hands, putting you a little more at ease..
As a single woman who lives alone, you have weapons hidden all over this house and the fact that someone was in here despite that, terrifies you..
You square your shoulders and hold the pistol in outstretched hands as you begin a well rehearsed sweep of the apartment.. You press your back to the wall, slipping silently down the hallway before you spring into the first room..
Your home office..
Your eyes scan the room.. Only to find it is empty..
You move carefully, back out to the hallway and continue to the bedroom, kicking open the door you enter and methodically scan the room, same as the first..
Seeing nothing out of place, your eyes go to the closed closet door.. Holding the gun steady in your practiced hands, you make your way over to the closet, the adrenaline rising as you reach out with one hand to pull open the door..
.. Nobody is there..
You lower your weapon, breathing a sigh of relief when suddenly..
KNOCK - KNOCK - KNOCK
A pounding knock on the door has you jumping out of your skin with a cuss.. "Fuck."