He just stood there scowling at her.

She handed him the coffee and the doughnut bag. “Here, go back to bed. Sorry for waking you.”

She turned and scurried back to her car. Being spontaneously romantic was a huge mistake. She drove away, feeling like an idiot.

It wasn’t until she was halfway downtown that she realized she’d given him her breakfast as well. They were supposed to sit and eat together and have their first real conversation. She pounded her hand into the steering wheel.

Where were his bedroom eyes and easy smile that morning, she wondered? Now that he’d taken what he wanted yet again, he was happy to let her just stand there like an idiot—an idiot with breakfast for him no less.

Maybe he wasn’t awake yet, she told herself. Maybe she ran away before he could throw his arm around her and give her a good-morning kiss. Sure, and maybe he’d been up all night writing bad love songs about our torrid night together, she thought sarcastically. How could she be so stupid?

She heard a loud honk and looked up from the wheel. The light was green. The sky was blue, and nobody in all of Cleveland gave one shit about her pathetic love life. She drove the rest of the way to the old bank puffing on a cigarette.

Iris stormed into the building after Ramone buzzed her through and banged on the elevator button. She banged on it again and kicked the wall.

“Whoa, what’s wrong with you?”

Ramone was never in the loading dock, but there he was for no good reason. It just figured that someone would be there to witness her meltdown.

“Ramone, let me ask you a question,” Iris blurted out. “If a woman brought you coffee and a doughnut the morning after a wonderful date, what would you do?”

“Change my locks.”

“What?” she practically shrieked.

“If she’s comin’ over to my house the morning after a date, she’s either desperate or crazy.”

Her eyes widened.

He broke out laughing. “Oh, I get it. This woman is you, right? Well, I didn’t mean no offense.” He was trying to stifle his laughter, but it kept sneaking out of his mouth. He gave her a friendly slap on the shoulder. “So which is it? You desperate or crazy?”

She attempted a smile. “Maybe both.”

Maybe Ramone was right. She wanted to go back home and crawl under her bed. Instead, she pulled out her radio and checked the battery.

“Ah, don’t sweat it. If the guy likes you, he’ll call. Just don’t bug him for a while.” Ramone smiled. “Hey, try not to buzz every five damned minutes today, okay?”

She nodded, avoiding his smirk by rushing into the elevator. Tears stung her eyelids. How pathetic. She needed to get over herself. She had bigger problems than Nick, and she needed help.

Iris stuck her head back out into the loading dock. “Hey, Ramone?”

“Yeah?”

“Was that you in the vault yesterday? You know, when Brad and I were down in the tunnels?”

“You went in the tunnels?” He raised his eyebrows, then shook his head. “I wasn’t down there. Why you askin’?”

“I just thought I saw somebody. Somebody in a blue shirt. They opened the vault door while we were on the other side.” She didn’t mention the keys. They were still at the bottom of her field bag.

Ramone stopped smiling. “You sure?”

“Well . . . yeah.”

“Might have been one of the owners, but they usually tell me before they come. I’ll make a few calls.” He turned to leave and added, “If you decide to leave the third floor, give me a buzz, okay?”

Iris nodded and ducked back into the elevator as the doors slid closed.

“Sure, don’t worry about me,” she muttered to herself. “I’ll just be up there by myself while some crazy person runs around breathing and dusting! No problem. I’m sure they won’t mind that I have their keys . . . Fuck!” She gripped the radio in her palm and took a deep breath.

Up in the old personnel office, everything was just as she’d left it. She plopped herself in Linda’s chair. It would take all that day and the next to transcribe her handwritten notes into a computerized blueprint. If she could even get it done in time. As the computer whirred back to life, she wondered how in the world she was going to work ten hours in that creepy office without going completely insane. What she needed to do was go down to the vault and put the keys back where she found them, but after Nick snuck up on her so easily the day before, she couldn’t go alone. If the intruder wasn’t some geek from a real estate company but actually was some sort of psycho killer . . . She couldn’t even finish the thought.

She grabbed the radio to call Ramone and set it down again. If she called him, she’d have to explain how she got the keys and why she took them. She’d have to admit she thought they were his. He might even suspect she had planned to use them to pry information out of him—or worse. If Ramone actually had plans to rob the vault and found out she had taken the keys, there was no telling what he might do. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but she hardly knew him.

Iris leapt up from the desk and began pacing. She was trapped. Between work and Ramone and the keys and the whispering voices in her goddamned head, there was nowhere to go. No way out without coming clean to Brad or Ramone or somebody.

Her sleep-deprived thoughts spiraled as her eyes welled with tears. The keys in the bottom of her bag. Nick’s sour face that morning. Ramone laughing. Desperate or crazy—which was it really? She was crazy for stealing shit from an abandoned building, for taking keys that didn’t belong to her, for hearing voices, for not telling Brad what she’d seen in the vault. Most of all, she was crazy for letting Nick into her house in the first place. She was desperate for trying to turn a few sessions of sweaty sex into a meaningful relationship by bringing him breakfast. The empty feeling she’d had waking up alone that morning hollowed her out all over again. She hadn’t realized how lonely she’d been all these months. Years even. It had been two years since she’d had a boyfriend, and that had been short lived. But Nick didn’t give a shit. He just thought she was easy, and he was right. She was desperate. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she wiped them angrily.

“Fuck him!” she shouted, slamming her hand on the desk. She’d rather be crazy.

She threw her calculator against the wall. Its batteries exploded out the back. Good. Her eyes fell on the locked door. It was getting knocked down by a contractor in a week. Fuck it. She stomped over and gave it a sound kick. It made a loud bang against its jamb but didn’t budge. She kicked it harder and let out a low growl. It was a relief to really hit something hard. She kicked it again and again.

“Fuck this fucking place!”

Whack!

She landed a kick right next to the locked knob and recoiled in surprise when the jamb splintered and the door moved. She’d actually broken some part of the frame. Iris examined the jamb where the door had been forced a half an inch open. Maybe I really am crazy, she thought with a nervous laugh. She’d just kicked a door in. Maybe her lunacy gave her the strength of ten men. The door wobbled in its frame. Might as well finish the job, she thought, and threw her shoulder into it. It took four tries, but the damn thing finally broke open.

“Ha! Take that, you stupid door!” she shouted triumphantly.

She stared at her handiwork for a few moments: the splintered doorjamb, the cracked door panel. Shit. How was she going to explain how she got the door open without sounding nuts?

A wave of musty, stale air hit her in the face. “Uck!”

She stepped into the hidden room. It was a bathroom, just as Ramone said. It wasn’t that different than the one above it where Nick had had his way with her, except it was filthy. A black crust covered the floor by the toilet. Dark grime coated the fixtures. The light filtering in through the window shimmered with dust and soot.