Don’t Breathe (A Taylor Sage FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 2)

CHAPTER ONE Emily nibbled on her lip and bounced on her toes, hidden beneath a pair of flats she hoped weren’t too casual for the occasion. A line-up of people spread before her, all waiting for admission to the United States Capitol building. Emily clutched her coffee in her shaking hands as the early morning sun caused beads of sweat to form beneath her bangs. A few security guards waited at the entrance of the massive building. As sweaty and nervous as Emily was, she glanced up and marvelled at it. She was really here. The Capitol dome reached proudly into the afternoon sky, and the white building shone like ivory in the sun. All her life she’d been waiting for this day. Someday, she wanted to join Congress herself—but starting as an aid to the esteemed Senator Corbin Ryan was a start. The line continued, and Emily breathed in and out, practicing the techniques her therapist had taught her to keep her anxiety in check. I already have the job. I don’t need to be so nervous! Two security guards greeted her: one behind a desk, the other standing by a metal detector. “Your ID and reason for visit?” “I’m Senator Ryan’s new aid? He should be expecting me. Oh, here, I have ID—” Emily went to reach into her purse for her ID card, just as the burning coffee cup squeezed a bit too hard in her hand—and slipped right out. Boiling hot liquid seared Emily’s chest as the coffee dumped all over her. She screamed and jumped back. Not only did it burn like heck—but her crisp white blouse was now a horrible shade of brown. Emily had always been a klutz. But this was truly the worst moment of her life. “Miss, are you okay?” the security guard asked, his face bewildered. Right—Emily was still in front of people. She was being watched. Totally embarrassed, she stammered, “I, um—I’ll be right back!” and bolted out of the Capitol building. Her mind raced. This was a disaster, but maybe she could still fix it. Sometimes she kept extra clothes in her car. Yes—she probably had a sweater in there. It wouldn’t look the best, but anything would be better than coming into the senator’s office covered in java. She hurried toward the parking garage, trotting down the steps until she was underground, surrounded by concrete and cars. It was cooler down here, and the smell of gasoline filled her nose. The sound of her shoes clacking resounded through the underground parking lot. She picked up her pace. If she didn’t hurry, she would not only show up looking like total crap—she’d show up late. But as she was passing by an entrance to another stairwell, a shadow caught her eye in her periphery. Emily did a double-take before she looked over. A woman sitting on the ground, her back slouched up against the wall. She had platinum blonde hair covering her face, and was dressed in business-casual—it looked like a pencil skirt and a blazer with a blouse underneath. She was also completely motionless. Emily paused. Was this lady drunk or something? For a moment, Emily felt slightly better about her situation. Sure, she was a mess at the Capitol—but this person was way messier. Don’t be mean, she scolded herself. Maybe she needs help. I should go see if she’s okay. Emily glanced at her watch. 7:49 a.m. She had to be in Senator Ryan’s office in eleven minutes. She didn’t have time to check on some passed out, drunk lady. It so wasn’t her problem. But as she went to pass, she realized she couldn’t just leave the poor thing, either. She imagined herself in that situation: how awful it would have been if someone had just left her like that. She’d had more than her fair share of drunk all-nighters, after all, so she got it. Emily sighed and trotted up to the woman, whose blonde hair shielded her face. “Excuse me, miss. Are you okay?” No response. Emily approached until she was right next to the woman. Emily glanced over her shoulder, an uneasy feeling crawling through her. “Hello? Miss? You okay down there? Have one too many mimosas?” Still silence. Damn it, I don’t have time for this! Emily leaned right in to grab the woman, but that was when she saw it. A stab wound pierced right through the center of the woman’s chest, a pool of blood staining her shirt. Emily stumbled back and barely had time to contain her horror before her screams echoed, again and again, through the garage.