Chapter Twelve
It didn’t take long to climb the flight of stairs up to the fourth floor, but Lizzy took them farther up to the top of the building. By the time they’d finished the quiet climb, Kyle’s thighs were burning and he resolved to add stairs at least once a week to his workouts.
The contrast between the developed third floor and this one hit him first when air rushed past as they opened the heavy fire door from the stairwell.
“Promising,” Lizzy murmured.
He wasn’t sure if it had been to herself or him but he rather thought it was the latter since she didn’t seem prone to unnecessary dialogue. He rather liked that she was communicating with him unprompted. “How so?”
“Windows. There are some missing. That would be key.” Lizzy touched his chest. “Let me clear the floor first.
And so he waited as she did a sweep of the mostly open expanse of space. The building developer was remodeling this floor but apparently progress was halted for the time being. Supplies had been dropped off on pallets toward the center of the room and covered with clear construction plastic but there were no signs of workers.
Lizzy lifted her arm in a beckoning motion and then proceeded on another tour of the floor while he caught up with her.
He glanced around. “It doesn’t seem as if anyone has been up here.”
“Mmm.” Her gaze swept across the floor slowly, her head turning as she studied every corner. “Not necessarily.”
“No?” He watched her as she cast back and forth, admiring the intensity of her concentration.
“Did either of us leave any footprints on the way in?” She tossed the question to him over her shoulder as she crouched to take a closer look at the stacked pallets and a nearby shop vacuum.
He glanced back. “Actually, no.”
It seemed like an easy thing to check for and a detail he should’ve been able to take note of earlier. It simply wasn’t something one looked for in day-to-day life.
Lizzy stood, the light from the windows framing her hair in a halo effect.
Well, not his life. Hers, he was coming to learn, involved different details. Her awareness of the world around her existed on multiple levels from the inconspicuous minutia to the broad perspective.
“There should be dust all over the floor, but it’s blown to the edges of the room.” Lizzy pointed to the places where the walls met the floor all around them. “It could’ve been the gusts of air coming in from the open window frames, but it’s too thorough and too even. This floor was cleared on purpose.”
“I see.” And he did, now that she’d pointed it out.
She pulled gloves out of her backpack and put them on.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised but do you often carry gloves with you in that bag of yours?” He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a chuckle.
Her expression was so severe at the moment, dark brows drawn together as she chewed her plump lower lip in concentration. The temptation to poke fun at her, just a little, was too much to resist.
“Latex gloves come in handy when you don’t want to leave behind any sort of calling card.” The comment was matter-of-fact. “Also good if you need to administer first aid. There’s a couple of other situations where they’d be useful.”
“And a few unorthodox uses in moments of more adventurous play, if one was so inclined.” He took a prudent step back.
Lizzy shot him a sharp glance, then bent and grasped the edge of construction plastic. “I haven’t used them that way and I’ll pass on hearing details.”
“But I’d be happy to share—”
“Don’t.”
He grinned. “If you ever change your mind about either the information or—”
“Nope.” Lizzy didn’t sound mad, but the last word had been definite. Instead, she dragged the construction plastic off the pallets and across the floor until it was closer to one of the windows. Then she stood there, staring at it.
This time, he wanted to see something before she pointed it out so he joined her where she was standing.
“Not too close to the windows.” She bumped him with his shoulder and he obliged by moving a few feet but not far.
“What are those impressions on the plastic?” He pointed. The way the plastic had been spread over the pallets, there shouldn’t have been those sorts of marks in it but this sheet had the sort of marks he’d seen left in carpet when heavy furniture had been sitting on top of it for too long. “Are there pallets missing? Maybe they were stacked on top of the pile over there.”
Lizzy shook her head. “Close, but no. And good spot. The shooter dragged this plastic over here to the open window frames. Not too close. Just far enough inside to make sure he or she wouldn’t be seen from the street or nearby buildings during the day. None of the lighting works yet in here and the sun was behind the building at the time of the shooting. Decent amount of shadow.”