If she couldn't take it by force, she'd find another way.
The first three days of the long weekend passed with eerie calm.
Then, on the afternoon of the third day, just before clocking out, I deliberately took a trip to the restroom at the far end of the hallway and lingered for a good fifteen minutes.
When I pushed open the office door and walked back to my desk, a cold smile tugged at my lips.
Sitting dead center on my desk was a heavy ring of brass-colored spare keys to the company warehouse.
Tucked beneath them was a sticky note in obnoxious pink, scrawled in Hope's signature cutesy handwriting: "Thanks for agreeing to cover my shifts after all, Hailey! You're the best! I left the keys here for you. Mwah~"
I glanced over at Hope's workstation. Computer off. Desk spotless. She was long gone.
She'd dropped the key and the note, snapped a photo, and figured that was enough to fake a handover.
I didn't make a scene. I slipped the key into my coat pocket.
When you nail someone, you weld the evidence shut. One shot. One kill.
I walked to the window and looked down.