Page 105 of Serpentine

I reach for the set of drawers to my right. There’s nothing notable inside, though. A bottle of his cologne I’ve seen him use all my life, a few pens, and some random office supplies.

The larger drawer at the bottom is where I halt and hold my breath before tugging on its handle. Because if any of them will give me answers, this one will because it’s big enough to hold files.

When I pull, it opens.

Tightly packed files peer up at me, and I turn on my phone’s flashlight and lay it facing the ceiling to give me enough light to read.

My fingers stop moving over the tabs when a familiar name stares at me.

Bardot.

Inside are pay stubs—and oddly enough, they’re recent. One is dated last week—last Friday—when I got paid.

They’re made out to one S. Bardot and worth two weeks’ wages.

“What the fuck?” I breathe out, looking at what seems to be evidence that Miles and Braxton’s mother is still alive. But she doesn’t work here… or does she?

How could the news report on her being missing and the police investigate her disappearance if there’s a literal paper trail that proves she isn’t?

The Mac on my father’s desk makes a noise, and I look up to see a little reminder notification pop up.

Don’t forget to pick up S’s medicine.

I look back down at the folder.

S. Bardot.

The door handle jiggles as I close the drawer, grab my phone, and shut the flashlight off. There’s a small closet to my right side, but I don’t know if it will be large enough to hide inside. Nor do I know if they’re going to open it.

Fuck!

If I get caught in here, I’ll never get answers.

Dad will fire me and likely not speak to me again.

“It’s locked again, Sue!” the voice on the other side calls out.

Again, this means Dad’s recent forgetfulness in unlocking his door is good. It’ll mean no red flags are raised.

“I swear to God they never listen,” another woman says. I hear keys jingling beyond the door, and her footsteps get closer.

I stand and make for the closet.

“Goddammit, I don’t have that key. We’ll have to try again another night,” Sue says, and the other woman sighs.

The squeaking wheels of a cart move away from the door, but I stand still. With all I’ve seen in Dad’s office, I’m finding it hard to stand here and not just make for the clubhouse with the file to tell Miles and Brax, but I need to make sure they’re off this floor before I go.

The line workers have no doubt noticed I’m missing. It’s been twenty minutes, and though I can use the excuse that my stomach is upset, if someone has already checked the stalls for my whereabouts, that won’t hold up.

I might get fired anyhow.

After another ten minutes of hiding, I finally could return to the line. I stowed the file I’d taken from Dad’s office into my locker and returned to the line, seemingly unnoticed. I see a few curious glances thrown my way. I rub my stomach a few times and feign illness.

By the end of the shift, I’m practically buzzing to get back to the clubhouse. Stowing the file in my purse means rolling it up, but I do it anyway.

“Have a good night,” a girl calls out, and I wave at her.

“You, too!” I tell her.