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but there would be no explaining
that to hysterical and terrified college kids. Or to their parents.
    I returned to my desk and scrolled
through my address book until I found the number for a commercial security
company we’d used in the past. I called and set an appointment for noon.
    I had accepted that my nine o’clock
had stood me up when I heard the front door. Just in case it was him after all,
I went and poked my head out of my office. A woman in her late twenties
trailing two children under five spoke briefly to Sandra then another agent
came to greet them, leading them down the hall into an office.
    Sandra saw me standing in the
doorway.
    “She’s the first person to come in
all morning,” she said.
    I nodded and turned away, then
stopped.
    “You said there was a man in the
lobby this morning,” I said. “When I called.”
    “Oh, that,” she said, waving a hand
dismissively. “That was a cop. He doesn’t count.”
    The most frightening part of that
statement was that I followed her logic.
    “What did the cop want?”
    She shrugged. “Asked to see Barry.
He was here quite a while.”
    “Who? Did you get a name?”
    “Uh, something with an E I
think . . . uh . . .”
    “Ellmann,” I said softly to myself.
    She snapped her fingers. “Yep,
that’s it. Ellmann.”

3
     
    After concluding a showing, I grabbed lunch and took it back
to the office. My concentration had been divided all morning. I couldn’t stop
thinking about Ellmann dropping by to see Paige.
    Why was Ellmann meeting with Paige?
I assumed it had something to do with Stacy’s assault. Why wasn’t he addressing
his needs with me? I was the site manager. It had been me she was meeting. I’d
been something of a witness. Paige hadn’t been there. What could he know of it?
He knows so little of anything at all.
    These thoughts continued to pester
me as I munched a salad and sipped coffee. Then a face appeared in my open
door.
    “There’s no one at the desk,” the
man said apologetically.
    So typical for Sandra to walk away
without telling anyone.
    “I’m sorry about that,” I said,
standing and walking around the desk. “What can I do for you?”
    “I’m here to see Zoe Grey.”
    “That’s me.”
    The man was around thirty, over six
feet tall, and obviously fit. He was dressed in well-fitting blue jeans, black
boots, and a black polo shirt with a company logo embroidered on it. His brown
hair was neatly cut and carefully styled with gel. His blue eyes sparkled with
a hint of amusement, as if he knew something the rest of us didn’t. He was
clean-shaven, and his features indicated his Italian ancestry.
    He smiled as he offered me his
hand.
    “Joe Pezzani. I’m from Wolf
Security Concepts.”
    “Great, thanks for coming. Please,
have a seat.”
    I thought I saw his nose twitch
slightly, though he refrained from comment. Maybe I needed to ride around for a
while without the helmet, let my hair air out some.
    I went back around the desk and set
the salad aside. He lowered his long frame into a chair opposite me and smiled
again. I picked up a pamphlet on Elizabeth Tower and passed it to him.
    “Last night there was an assault in
the lobby of that building,” I began. “There have been concerns from the
residents about their safety. I’d like to post a guard in the building after
dark for a few days, maybe a week, to appease them. I don’t want them to be
afraid in their own homes.”
    He was listening, nodding, glancing
through the information on the pamphlet.
    “You sound like you think it’s a
wasted gesture.”
    “I don’t think it’s a waste if it
makes them feel safe.”
    “But you don’t think a threat
exists.”
    I leaned back in my chair and re-crossed
my legs. “No, I don’t. I believe last night’s assault was an isolated incident.
I’d be very surprised if anything like it ever happened again. But that isn’t
what’s important.”
    “It’s a big building,” he said.
“Lots of people in and out.