Orientation (Book one in the Thelma Berns: My Internship in Hell series)

Thursday Afternoon

By the end of the day, the three of us had located and logged two-thirds of the list. We'd visited every cubicle, office, conference room, and even restroom and supply closets on both of the main floors. The only place left to look was the basement.

"I'm telling you. There's got to be stuff down there on this list," Ning said.

Mick shook his head. "All that stuff down there is junk. Why would they be tracking it?"

"Why keep it if it's junk?" she asked.

"Touché," he said, grinning. "Let's hit it tomorrow morning."

I walked back to my cubicle with the laptop tucked under my arm. I was feeling secure in my ability to complete the project with the help of Mick and Ning before Tonya's deadline now. But my other objective had been unsuccessful. Where was this Horace guy?

When I got back to my desk I checked my phone. There was a text from Gillian asking me to pick her up after work. Her text ended with a series of light-bulb emoji's. For some reason this didn't inspire me with a lot of confidence.

Still, it was something to take my mind off of not finding Horace. I tidied up my desk, grabbed my purse, and headed out to the library.

She was sitting on a bench next to the parking lot, face embedded in a book. It must not have been very good because I didn't even have to beep the horn to get her attention. She put a bookmark in her spot – according to her, only heathens dog-eared a book – and she snapped it closed before collecting her things and throwing them in my backseat through the open window. I reached across and opened her door for her and she slid in.

"Hey," she said. "How're you doing today? Did you get any sleep?"

"No," I said. "I couldn't stop thinking about Horace getting away. How are we going to find out who he is?"

She grinned. "I have an idea," she said.

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"Don't be a baby. We faced down a crazy guy with a gun. We can do anything."

"As I recall," I said, turning to face her, "you were crawling around under tables and letting Beval face him down."

"Huh," she said. "Feels like you're not giving me any credit."

I wanted to smack my head against the steering wheel. "Tell me the idea."

"Easy. We just go to the plumber's business and stake it out. Like cops."

"Horace isn't going to show up there. Jerry said he'd be in touch."

"Horace isn't a patient man. He's going to show up there and he's going to be making some crazy demands. And he's not going to care if Jerry's wife finds out or not."

"All right," I said. "Let's say we go there and stake it out. And let's say Horace actually shows up. What're we going to do then?"

"Easy. We document what they're doing, follow Horace home and then call the police."

"We could just call the police now."

"And what are they going to do? We don't know who Horace is."

"What if we just let them do their jobs? This could be dangerous. We have no training whatsoever, and –"

I was interrupted by someone knocking on my side window.

Gillian jumped so far out of her seat she bonked her head on the ceiling. I let out a crazed scream.

But it was just Kirk.

"Um, sorry," he said. It was muffled with the window up. "I didn't mean to scare you."