After I explain everything, Penelope does her best to convince me to stay at her place. I shrug off her concerns, telling her to go to work and act like everything's normal.
She's not thrilled, but by five I'm alone with a stack of papers and a mystery.
A text from Scott tells me I'm supposed to be at work on time tomorrow. No problem. Already planned on that.
It's terse and to the point. From anyone else, it would be a simple professional message. From Scott? He's probably upset I walked out on him.
Seriously need to consider getting a different job.
I pour myself a generous glass of Merlot, the rich aroma wafting up as the deep red liquid swirls in the glass. Grabbing a bag of pretzels from the pantry, I settle on the floor in front of my couch, spreading the printouts across the coffee table. The familiar crinkle of the pretzel bag provides a comforting background noise as I flip open my notebook, pen poised to jot down my findings.
