Chapter 2 - Morning Light And Broken Glass
The first gray fingers of dawn crept through the cracked blinds, striping the linoleum floor with pale light. I woke up slumped against the armchair across the room, my neck stiff from a night spent watching the shadows shift. Mr. Costlow was still there, curled tightly on the narrow rug with his jacket pulled over his chest like a blanket. The glass liquor bottle lay empty beside his hand, rolling slightly with every deep, exhausted breath he took.
I tiptoed across the floor, my rubber-soled maid shoes making no sound, and lifted the bottle, placing it out of sight in the sink. My 6:00 AM shift at the main estate was looming, and the panic that had dulled overnight came rushing back with the daylight. If the head housekeeper checked the residential wing early, or if the building superintendent came by to inspect the hallway pipes, everything would unravel in seconds.
Costlow stirred at the faint sound of running water, his eyes snapping open with immediate, predator-like alertness. He scrambled up onto one knee before he remembered where he was, his hand instinctively reaching for an empty holster at his waist.
"Easy," I whispered, dropping a fresh towel onto the counter. "It's just me."
He exhaled slowly, pressing two fingers against his temples where a dark bruise was blooming across his skin. "What time is it?"
"Just past five-thirty," I said, keeping my voice low as I unbuttoned my green apron and reached for a fresh one from the hook by the door. "The staff starts arriving downstairs at six. You can't be standing out in the hall, and you definitely can't leave through the front lobby looking like that."
Costlow stood up, towering over the small kitchen area, his broad shoulders seeming to press against the low ceiling. He looked down at his ruined suit and the tattoos exposed by his unbuttoned shirt. "They'll be looking for me at the docks by now. If I walk out that front door in a gray suit, half the city police and every collector in the district will have my description before I reach the corner."
"Then stay put," I said, tying the apron strings around my waist with trembling fingers. "I'll bring you some coffee and a spare jacket from the laundry chute when I come back up for supplies at noon. Don't answer the door for anyone."
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He stared at me for a long moment, a flicker of strange emotion crossing his battered face—something softer than the hardness he carried like armor. "You're taking a hell of a risk for a stranger, kid."
"Just stay quiet," I warned, turning the brass knob and slipping out into the empty hallway just as the distant chime of the elevator bell signaled the start of the morning shift.
