Part of the writing had become illegible thanks to a tear in the paper and shoe marks. My best guess was that it had been stuck in my door over the weekend, fallen out, and gotten trampled a few times. My first thought had been that someone mixed up my apartment with someone else’s. The note made no sense. Either it was some kind of kinky foreplay, or it was a threat.
Running late by then, I’d stuck the letter in a large zippy bag and shoved it in my backpack. I planned to take it by campus security on my way home. That was still my plan, but now I had a second note to add. Possibly. Reaching across my desk with the tip of a pencil, I lifted the top half of the paper and glanced at the writing. More permanent marker, more hasty scrawling.
You think what you do is a game. You’ll regret playing with me.
That one was clearly threatening, right? It would be illogical to think this note was also meant for someone else. Why, though? And from who? It could be Jason, the guy who I’d smacked in the face with my purse after he tried to lock me in his car, or it could be any number of the weirdos Lydia had set me up with. One had latched onto me like a slug and tried to get me to give him a ride home, an hour away. Another had asked what type of diamond cut I preferred, along with a request to know my ring size. Several months ago she’d set me up with a man who’d nearly started a fight with the waiter because he thought the guy was looking at me with too much interest.
Trust me, the list could go on for a while.
“Excuse me,” a voice said in a polite library tone, “where would I find information on Leibniz?”
Her question was paired with a wary scowl, mainly because I’d nearly fallen out of my chair at the sound of her voice. “I’m sorry, what were you looking for?”
The woman took a step back. “Leibniz. What section would I find that?”
Reining my heart rate and breathing back in, I quickly looked up the information she needed and sent her on her way. She was happy to go. Falling back against my chair, I glanced at the clock. Thirty more minutes. Then I could run home, change, and go pick up Sammy.
I’d planned to catch up on homework while I worked. Focusing turned out to be a challenge, what with the notes and all. Instead, I kept making lists of all the possible suspects, and alternate theories. My favorite was that the notes had come from Jen, and careful analysis would reveal her cagey plot to run me out of Roman’s life. It made no sense, of course, but it was a nice distraction to think about her being shoved into a patrol car.
Ten minutes to five, Sabrina strolled up to the desk and plopped her purse down on top of the folded letter. “Did I miss anything exciting?” She laughed at her own question.
The other “real” librarians always gave us looks that said they knew we weren’t serious about the Dewey Decimal System and guarding the reference section books that weren’t allowed to leave the library. They were right. As much as I loved books and reading, I was studying genetic variations in trees. This was a job, one I enjoyed, but not my passion. Sabrina and I saw it as a nice quiet place where we could study between helping patrons. Alice, the resident alpha librarian, thought studying while manning the desk was sacrilege. Whatever.
I almost gave my usual report of a whole lot of nothing, but the edge of the paper sticking out from under Sabrina’s bag caught my eye. “Well,” I said as I reached for the paper and tugged it free, “there was this.”
Scanning the note after snatching it out of my hand, Sabrina frowned. “Somebody pissed off about a late fee? Seems a tad overdramatic.” She rolled her eyes and handed the note back to me.
The Crazy Girl's Handbook Page 15
