The elevator dinged. Jack and Chandler faced the doors they’d entered through, but it was the doors behind them that opened. Embarrassed, they turned and walked out of the elevator.
Jack looked around, puzzled. They weren’t in the lobby. The dark concrete room they found themselves in led to a loading dock. The large corrugated roll-down door at the end was closed, and five recycling bins were lined up in front of a dumpster against the wall. A concrete hallway lay to their left. The deep thrum of machinery reverberated off the bare walls and ceiling.
The elevator doors closed behind them.
Jack spun around and pressed the button. It didn’t light up.
They heard the elevator going back up.
“Crud.” Chandler pointed to the elevator button panel. “You need a key. What button did you press to get us here?”
“The bottom one,” Jack said.
“You mean you pressed B? B’s for basement. Not for the lobby.”
“I wasn’t looking at the letters, I just pressed the bottom button. Sorry.”
The humidity and the stale, musty air made this room feel like a cave. “Let’s cut through here,” Jack said. He walked over to the loading dock door. He tried the door handle but it didn’t budge. There was a badge reader next to it.
“Great,” Chandler grumbled. “I bet we’re not allowed down here.”
“Calm down,” Jack said, half to himself. “Let’s see where the hallway goes.”
The elevator behind them dinged. A moment later, the custodian they saw earlier wheeled the recycling bin out. He headed toward the bins along the wall.
Chandler hurried toward the elevator, but Jack headed to Jeremy.
“What are you doing, Jack?” Chandler’s voice was filled with caution, as if Jack was getting too close to a cliff.
“He’s the custodian. If he worked that night, he might have been the one who saw her before she left.”
Chandler grabbed his arm. “Vargas is in the house, man.” The elevator doors beeped and started to close. Chandler’s hand shot out and stopped them.
“You go,” Jack said. “I just need a couple of minutes.”
The elevator doors beeped.
“I’ll meet you outside,” Jack said. “Go.”
Chandler yanked his hand away from the doors and let them close. “Hurry it up.”
Jack nodded. “I’ll make it quick.”
As they walked over to Jeremy, Chandler whispered, “Just don’t get this guy upset.”
“I won’t.”
Jack waved at Jeremy. “Hello.”
Jeremy waved back. “Hi.” He hefted the heavy recycling bin up in one quick motion and dumped the paper out into the dumpster.
“I’m Jack. You work upstairs at H.T. Wells?”
“Yes.” A big smile crossed Jeremy’s face. “You were just there. Both of you. Didn’t you see me?”
“I did.” Jack nodded. “I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”
“Okay.” Jeremy wiped his nose with the back of his thick hand and loudly sucked in the snot dripping into his sinuses. The sound alone made Chandler visibly gag.
“Did you know Stacy Shaw?”
“Yes.” Jeremy slammed the lid on the recycling bin. His brows drew together and his small eyes became dots. “I talked to the police.”
“You talked to the police? About what?”
“When Mrs. Shaw went home.” Jeremy grabbed another recycling bin and wheeled it over to the dumpster.
“Oh, you saw her leave?”
“Yes.” Jeremy jerked the bin up and dumped it in a fluid motion. Paper poured out into the dumpster. He let the bin land with a loud bang.
“How did she look?”
Jeremy’s smile rose and fell, as if he couldn’t make up his mind how the memory made him feel. “Pretty.”
“I mean, how did she seem? Was she happy or tired or…?”
“Happy.” Jeremy shrugged.
“What time did she go home?” Jack asked.
Jeremy’s head jerked to the side and his arm twitched. The sudden, spastic movement made Jack step back.
“Eight.” Jeremy held up his watch.
Jack looked at the battered silver watch. “That’s an interesting watch. What are those marks?”
“My mother put them on there.” On the face were three colored marks—green at twelve, blue at five, and red at nine.
“What time do you start work, Jeremy?” Jack spoke slowly.
“Twelve o’clock. Four days a week.”
“When do you go home?”
“Nine.”
Jack pointed at Jeremy’s watch. “That’s smart of you to use the colors.”
Jeremy rubbed his watch. “My mom did it.”