Thursday was not proving to be a good day. Katherine had pulled up to the Sandover building at six o'clock, as she normally did, only to find it surrounded by cop cars and medical vehicles. Between that and all the rubbernecking in the parking lot, it took her several extra minutes to park her car.

"The hell is going on?" she demanded, as soon as she set eyes on the guard inside.

"Suicide," Darryl answered gravely. "One of the tech guys."

"One of the…here?" Katherine's jaw dropped. "He—He was here?"

"Yup. Poor bastard."

Thankfully, Darryl had left it at that. Katherine's hands were already a bit shaky as she scanned her security badge. She waited for an empty elevator and went directly to the 22nd floor. She had no intention of being around that kind of fiasco. That was not something she wanted to see.

But it seemed she was one of the few with that philosophy. One by one, the men of the office greeted her on their way to their offices. And one by one, they walked past her again, heading for the elevator or stairs as soon as they heard the news. Everyone wanted a piece of the action, wanted in on the gossip. It was a terrible thing about office workers. They flocked to anything that broke the routine.

Through whispers, Katherine learned more about the situation than she wanted to. It'd been an older gentleman named Paul. The man had been an interface engineering specialist with tech support. He'd been up on their floor just last week, debugging a travel laptop for the director of branch relations. He'd been set to retire not too long from now. He'd stuck his head into the microwave and…

"You sure you're alright, Katherine?"

She blinked. Mr. Smith was standing on the other side of her desk, looking deeply concerned. Katherine brushed a curl out of her face, and pulled her lips into a well-practiced smile.

"Perfectly fine, Mr. Smith," she assured him. "All this commotion…well. I'm not especially familiar with death and drama."

"Me either," he agreed. "Guess it's normal to be shaken. I went down there, and it scared the hell outta me."

She nodded, and cleared her throat. "Was there something you needed?"

"Uh, yeah, when you got a sec. Got a technical report sent up from tech, couple clerical errors I don't have time to track down. Hoping you could trace it back for me?"

He passed her the paper, and waited patiently as searched for the form ID in the system log.

"Yup," she said, highlighting it on her screen. "Ian Johnston. Yesterday at 9:33 AM. Would you like me to page him for you?"

"Read my mind."

He gave her a charming smile, enough to put her at ease. Still, she was careful not to show it until he'd walked safely down the hallway back to his office. Katherine shook her head at herself, grabbing her desk phone and plugging in the extension on her monitor.

"Tech Support, this is Ian."

"Hi, Ian. Would you be able to come up to 22? Mr. Smith of Sales and Marketing would like a word."

It was a very nervous voice that answered her.

"Be right up."

The line had disconnected before she could give him any more information.

At the very least, he was prompt. It wasn't more than a few minutes later that the elevator doors opened to deposit a stringy man in a tell-tale yellow shirt into the lobby. He looked supremely out of place amongst the designer ties and jackets of the wandering executives.

He was practically trembling as he walked up to the front desk, looking sickly pale.

"I-Ian Johnston," he informed her shakily. "I was told to speak to a manager?"

"Down the hall on your right," Katherine instructed, somewhat distractedly. She was trying to parse a misfiled work order at the same time. "Dean Smith, Sales and Marketing. Office 2208."

The yellow shirt disappeared from her line of vision, and she returned to her work. She finished identifying the mistakes, copied the pertinent information. She'd barely opened the new form before she heard the muffled shouts.

Katherine looked up from her desk as several people went darting down the hallway. Her brain told her to move in the opposite direction, to run from whatever commotion was going on. But instinct pulled her out of her seat, looking around the corner.

A small crowd had formed around the restrooms, all gasping and whispering to each other. A few of them were stumbling back. Katherine could see the legal director with her hand over her mouth. Her assistant had to turn his back. Someone pushed them apart, was yelling to call an ambulance.

Katherine ran back to her desk, grappling with her phone.

The only good that could be said of it was that the police hadn't made it far. The officers who had responded to the morning's tragedy simply turned their cars around and headed right back to Sandover. A few medical professionals rushed ahead of them, only to be ushered back when they were no longer needed. It wasn't long after that that the coroner replaced them.

It seemed her long morning of avoiding office gossip was in vain. Katherine was hoping to avoid talking to any police officers—she hadn't seen anything after all—but she ended up speaking to three. Each time, they had something worse to tell her.

First, it had been just another suicide. Katherine assured the man that she had been at the front desk, and had no idea what was going on. She'd been filing a request, heard the shouts, and called the police as requested. That had been it.

Then, they'd identified the worker. Ian Johnston, the employee she'd just summoned from the tech department. Then the police wanted to know everything about his supposed clerical error. What kind of mistake had he made? How much could something like that affect profit? Could she get them a copy of the misfiled form? Had she seen anything odd?

Katherine didn't have much to tell them. She was new, and had no idea what the ramifications might have been. It was a tech report, so she couldn't imagine it was that dire. Ian had already seemed nervous when she called. She hadn't really been paying attention to him. Now, she desperately wished that she had.

Even then, the worst wasn't over. The third officer wanted to ask her all about the witness—Dean Smith. How long had she known him? Did he seem like a quiet or secretive guy? Did she verify the mistakes he claimed were on the form? Would he have any motive to hurt Ian Johnston?

"What?" Katherine had demanded, more furious than confused. "You can't seriously think that…? This was a suicide, officer!"

"That is what we're investigating," he told her coolly. "But you have to understand, the situation is suspect. If the file was an honest mistake, and he wasn't likely to be issued any disciplinary action, Johnston didn't have a lot of motive to stab himself in the neck with a pencil."

Katherine had to sit down after that.

After the police had finally cleared her, after she'd given her statement again and again, swearing up and down that Mr. Smith had no quarrel with the victim prior to that day, hadn't even known him, they finally let her be. But there wasn't really any peace to be found in the office. The common area was flooded with bystanders, people floating up from other floors to see what had happened to who and where. Katherine shot them all dirty looks as she worked. Her responsibilities had just doubled, to say the least. Half the executives had taken off, shaken by the day's events. Katherine had to reschedule all their calls and meetings, and send out additional notifications about the "mishap." She also had to get in contact with the cleaning service. The men's bathroom was officially out of order until further notice. It was still considered an active crime scene.

She couldn't have been more thankful when the lunch delivery showed up, half the size it normally was. Handing out lunch she could do. That was normal. That was routine.

Katherine made her rounds, distributing food and paperwork with little chatter. The only one who tried to talk to her with Kevin Ransone, the AD of marketing. Thankfully, he didn't seem surprised or confused by her silence. It was one of the reasons she tried to maintain a "mysterious" façade at work. She didn't have to make excuses not to talk to people.

She approached the last office a bit more carefully than she normally did. Hands full, she tapped her foot against the door by way of knocking.

"Uh…yeah," the gruff voice greeted her from inside. "Yeah, come in."

Katherine finagled the door open with some difficulty. She kicked the door closed behind her, but only made it a few steps before Mr. Smith came rushing to her aid.

"Woah, sorry! Here, lemme help you with that."

He freed up her left hand, grabbing his salad container from her and reaching out to steady her.

"I'm fine, really. Thank…"

Katherine's gratitude died in her throat. Mr. Smith stood before her, no button down or suspenders or expensive designer ties. He just had his undershirt, leaving his arms bare. Katherine noticed in spite of herself that they were incredibly muscular. Either he went to the gym far more often than she did, or the cleanse he'd been raving about was really doing its magic.

She hurried to close her mouth, but Mr. Smith had already caught on to her surprise.

"Oh! I'm—God, I'm—sorry, I didn't even—the cops they—they had to take my shirt into evidence, because there was…"

"Right." Katherine nodded, shaking herself out of her stupor. "I thought that might be the case. Which is why I also brought you this."

She held up the garment bag in her right hand, passing it off to him.

"It's not designer or anything, but I figured…"

"God-send," he assured her, and he took the bag as well.

For some reason, Katherine still felt the need to turn her back as he changed. She busied herself inspecting the bookshelves. They were full to the brim, stacked with law books and financial volumes and encyclopedias. She wondered if they were all his or if they were just a fixture of the office. It seemed like a lot of books and knick-knacks to have for someone who had only worked there a month.

"This isn't Kevin's dry cleaning or anything is it?" Mr. Smith asked conversationally.

"No," Katherine chuckled, examining the putting mat on the floor. "I found it in my car actually."

"Oh. So this is like your…boyfriend's shirt or something?"

She couldn't help but grin. She nudged the golf ball along the turf as she debated her answer. But after a few seconds of awkward silence, she decided on the truth.

"My brother-in-law's if I had to guess. My sister and I do laundry together every now and then to swap stories."

"Oh." He sounded pleasantly surprised. "Ha. Well by the looks of it, your brother-in-law is a giant."

Katherine chanced a glance over her shoulder, and had to stifle a giggle. The button down was only a bit too large for him, but the sleeves were a different matter. They stretched beyond his wrists, the cuffs brushing his knuckles.

"Well, it's been a rough day at the office," she reasoned. "I don't think anyone will mind if you just…"

Hesitantly, she stepped forward to take one of the cuffs. She folded it back neatly, then again and again. Her fingers brushed along his skin as she rolled it up his arm. She hesitated at the obvious hitch in his breathing, but he made no move to stop her. So she politely ignored it, and bit the inside of her cheek.

"Um…uh, so," he offered, clearing his throat. "Just uh…how tall is your brother-in-law?"

"Very," she answered, moving to the other sleeve. "My sister's into the whole tall, dark, and handsome types."

"And uh…what about you?"

Katherine paused, looking up at him in amused surprise. He was standing very close to her. So close that she might have been uncomfortable if it weren't so clear she had the upper hand. His eyes were wide, seemingly shocked by his own gall, and he'd pressed his lips into a tight, nervous line. It felt nice to make someone nervous.

Someone walked past the office, effectively ending the moment.

"Your one o'clock," Katherine said suddenly, taking a step back.

Mr. Smith frowned in confusion. "My…one o'clock is your type?"

"Your one o'clock is going to call soon," she explained. "Here's the file. I printed out two copies again, so you can edit as you go. And I've already faxed one over to the Michigan office, so Mr. Carter should already have it."

"Right. Of course." He cleared his throat again, taking his own step back. "Thanks again. For the shirt."

"Of course… Will there be anything else, Mr. Smith?"

It was a feeble attempt to reassure him that he hadn't been the one to cross the line. He offered her a small smile, drumming his fingers against the folder.

"Actually, yes. Could you tell me…what is your favorite breakfast?"

"Anything with bacon," she answered, grinning.

"Oh, come on." He sighed, making a show of shaking his head. "You've got to know that's not good for you."

"Let me guess," she goaded. "Superfood green smoothie chock full of kale?"

"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it," he warned her. "I mean, bacon? Do you know what that does to your cholesterol? Have you read any paper in medical science ever?"

"I have, and I don't care. You know what they say. I'm here for a good time, not a long time."

That sobered him quickly. His teeth dragged over his bottom lip, and he nodded thoughtfully.

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

"Will that be all, Mr. Smith?" she asked softly.

"Yeah. That'll be all, Miss Marlin."

She nodded, and made for the door, only to have him call her back again.

"Oh, Katherine! One more thing. Could you run down to tech and grab someone for me?"

"Um…sure. I can page someone up."

"No, I'm—I'm looking for someone specific," he sighed, shaking his head. "Don't know his name. Tall guy, floppy brown hair, tends to overshare. He's…jacked, but into really nerdy stuff."

"No offense, but I think you just described half the guys on the floor."

Mr. Smith rolled his eyes at her joke.

"I know it's a long shot, but could you try? I think he…knew the guy that…I just wanna talk to him."

Katherine frowned, but nodded dutifully. "Sure. I'll send him in if I find him."

Mr. Smith gave her a grateful smile, and she left him to his salad.

Katherine had only been down to the tech department once. That had been on her tour of the building, her very first day. Nearly a month out, it took her a few tries to find the right floor. When she finally found the sea of ill-fitting yellow polo shirts, she was actually relieved.

The tech department was by no means as glamorous as the executive floor. Even though they had the same wide windows and open space, it had about six times as many people. Everyone was crammed into a four by four cubicle, and the clamor of ringing phones and overlapping voices was immense. If Katherine couldn't focus in her busy common area, she couldn't imagine how anyone got anything done in this nightmare.

She located the front desk, where an older woman in an ill-fitting purple blouse was reading a paperback novel. She didn't look up when Katherine approached. Just kept devouring her romance story through thick prescription glasses. Katherine cleared her throat twice with no results. She double checked the name plate on the desk.

"Hi, Miss…Raneri? Uh…Mimi?"

"Tech Support, this is Mimi, how can I help you?"

She'd slurred the words together into one sentence and hadn't looked up, as if she was answering the phone. She just stared at the book in her hands.

"Uh…hi," Katherine said anyway. "They sent me down from the executive department. I'm looking for a technical assistant?"

"Sure," the woman snorted. "Take anyone who's not on the phone."

"Oh, no. I'm trying to find a man with a certain description."

"Why? You got a type?"

Katherine narrowed her eyes. "My boss is looking for someone."

That made the woman look up.

"You've got a gay boss?" she asked in surprise.

Katherine drummed her nails on the counter, trying to suppress her annoyance.

"He spoke to someone the other day. Tech support, tall guy, floppy brown hair? Might be…muscular?"

To her surprise, the woman softened. More than that, she practically melted in her chair. The romance novel was long forgotten.

"Sam Wesson," she sighed dreamily. "I'll give you this. Your boss has good taste."

"Yeah. I'll be sure to let him know. Do you know where I can find Mr. Wesson?"

"At his cubicle," Mimi answered, waving a hand down the row. "Hang a left at the break room."

Katherine grimaced as she walked away. She'd been hoping to avoid the break room and its ill-fated microwave at all costs.

At the very least, it was easy to find. The door was closed, but still covered in crime scene tape from the morning's investigation. Some late employees were still buzzing around it like flies, trying to peek inside the tiny window in the door. Katherine couldn't imagine what carnage was still inside.

She pointedly turned her back on it, inspecting the row of cubicles to the left.

As it turned out, Sam Wesson was also pretty easy to find. He stuck out like sore thumb in a sea of older, pensioned workers. Kat could see why Mimi was so smitten. He was handsome—in a very unnatural, catalog model way. He was probably the tallest person in the room, and had the broad shoulders to match. He had a strong jaw, shaggy hair, and skin that looked more airbrushed than natural. Seriously. Who got that tan in Ohio?

He was busy on a phone call when she approached. Though, "busy" was probably an exaggeration.

"Now turn it back on," he sighed into his headset. "Is it working now?"

He twirled a tiny pen in his fingers, using it to make the Dracula bobble-head on his desk nod.

"Great. Glad I could help."

He ended the call with more force than was probably necessary, and sunk even further in his seat.

"Mr. Wesson?"

He jolted in his chair at the intrusion. When he turned around, he actually did a triple take. He squinted at Katherine as if she were a very bright light. She hadn't meant to startle him, but she couldn't imagine what would warrant that kind of reaction.

"Sam Wesson?" she repeated, firmly.

"Uh—Uh, yeah," he said, still staring at her. "I guess I am."

"You guess?"

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. However, he didn't seem to pick up on her reaction.

"Don't you work on 22?" he asked.

"Yes," said Katherine, somewhat taken aback. "Sorry, have we…?"

"No, no," he assured her. "I was just up there earlier. Um…do you need something?"

"Yes. If you could follow me, Mr. Smith would like to have a word with you in his office."

Sam stared at her, as if she'd suddenly switched into a different language. Katherine rolled her eyes.

"Director of Sales and Marketing? About yea tall, crazy jawline, designer tie?"

"Oh, yeah!" That seemed to jog his memory. He hurried out of his seat, grabbing his things. "Yeah, of course. Sorry, um…lead the way."

Katherine gave him a very disparaging look, but led the way back to the elevator.

She had never really taken time to appreciate how slowly elevators could move. It was a long ride up to the 22nd floor, made even longer by the way the man was staring at her. It looked like he was taking some kind of mad eye test, trying to fathom a recognizable letter out of the blur in front of him.

"Are you new?" he asked abruptly.

She blinked at him in surprise. "Um…yeah, I guess you could say that. I just started here…"

"Three weeks ago?"

Katherine paused, and smiled uneasily.

"Ha. Guess that's when they bring in the fresh meat."

"Not really."

He didn't bother elaborating. Katherine didn't appreciate being stared at. He opened his mouth to say something else, but she beat him to the punch.

"So how do you two know each other?" she asked.

"Uh…who?"

"You and Mr. Smith. You obviously don't know each other by name, just physical description. And I know you haven't been up to our floor to repair anything, so…guess I'm just wondering what I'm missing."

"Nothing," he said quickly, and rubbed at the back of his neck. "We just…bumped into each other in the elevator."

"Uh huh. Clandestine elevator meeting."

"Oh no," he assured her. "No, no, not…not like that. Just uh…awkward small talk."

"Right. Kind of like this."

He nodded sheepishly. After that, they kept silent.

Katherine made Sam wait in the common area, just like any visiting executive would. Though in his yellow polo, he looked more like a kid waiting to get sent to the principal's office. He didn't seem at all at ease in the lavish waiting room. That didn't really bother her. He could take his turn to be uncomfortable.

She headed down the hall herself, listening at Mr. Smith's door to verify whether or not he was still on his conference call. She stuck her head in quietly, catching his eye. She'd expected him to simply nod and wave her off, but he ended his call almost immediately.

"Yeah, Frank—hey, it was great catching up, but I still have some statements I have to go over for law enforcement. You mind if we pick this up next week? …Yeah, yeah, you too. …Yes, thank you. …I'll do that, thanks. Bye, Frank."

Mr. Smith pulled his ear piece out, tossing it irreverently on the desk.

"You got him?"

"Yeah," she answered. "I found him. I told him to wait until—"

"Great. Bring him in."

There was a sense of urgency in his voice that she didn't quite understand, but she didn't want to question him. She simply walked back to the lobby, beckoned for Sam to follow her, and led him back into the office.

A heavy silence coated the room for the first several seconds. Mr. Smith was standing behind his desk, hands braced on the back on the chair like he was trying to look intimidating. Sam was still visibly nervous, both of his hands squeezing the strap of his messenger bag. They sized each other up, but no one said anything. Not even an awkward hello.

"Alright," Katherine said, unable to disguise her pointed annoyance. "I'll go first. Mr. Smith, this is Sam Wesson, from tech support. Sam, this is Dean Smith, Director of Sales and Marketing. Will you gentlemen be needing anything?"

"No, Katherine," sighed Mr. Smith, looking down at his desk. "That'll be all, thanks."

"Great."

She gave Sam a tight smile, and marched back to the front desk. Men.

Even as she chipped away at her evening responsibilities, she couldn't figure out what bothered her so much about the whole thing. Sure, she spoke to Mr. Smith every day, but they weren't particularly close. He wasn't obligated to tell her about any strange conversations he had in the elevator, or how he was feeling after watching a man die in front of his eyes. He wasn't obligated to tell her about anything. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing…something.

Mr. Smith had said he wanted to talk to the second tech guy because he'd known the first. But if the meeting was about grieving and consolation, then what was with all the hostility? Why was everything so tense?

Katherine had to actively ignore the conspiracy center of her brain. It was none of her business what was going on. She did not want to get dragged into office drama. It was why she rarely spoke to anyone. She'd done such a great job for the first month. She wasn't going to break that streak now.

Still, it was hard to deny her curiosity when Mr. Smith came hurrying out a few minutes later, an energetic Sam on his heels.

"Hey, Katherine, could you do me a favor? I hate to make any more work for you, but could you…?"

"Postpone all your meetings for the day until further notice?" she finished, coolly. "Already taken care of."

"God, you're an angel," he sighed, smiling widely.

Katherine merely hummed, still not very happy with him. It made Mr. Smith wince.

It was Sam's turn to wait, looking back and forth between the other two. He couldn't decide if he was more impatient or amused. Two seconds ago he and Dean had been rushing for elevator, but the secretary seemed to have stopped him dead in his tracks. Dean drummed his fingers anxiously on the counter, waiting for the blonde to look up at him again. But she kept her eyes fixed on her computer screen. It was almost painful to watch.

Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, Dean…?"

"Right." The man straightened up and patted the counter again. He was still looking at the woman. "Katherine, I'm gonna head out early. Uh…Sam and I are just gonna…talk things over…you know, about Ian, and…"

"Good evening, Mr. Smith," she said pointedly.

"Right. Bye, Katherine."

He hung his head and made a beeline for the elevator.

Sam trailed after him, unable to stop himself from glancing back at the desk. There was something about the woman that seemed so familiar, but he still couldn't place what it was. She was certain very pretty, but it wasn't the curls or her little black dress that had caught his eye. And that name, Katherine. It definitely rang a bell…

They stepped into the elevator, Sam still peering over at the desk. Dean seemed to notice what had his attention.

"I know," he sighed, elbowing Sam in the ribs. "She's gorgeous, right?"

"Hm? Oh, uh…yeah, I guess. That wasn't…there's just something about her I can't place."

"I get what you mean," said Dean, though Sam didn't think they were talking about the same thing. "It's been bugging me since we started together. Been trying to think of a good way to ask her out for weeks now. But, ha…to tell you the truth, I'm just not great at that kind of thing."

"Uh…right…"

Sam shot him a strange look as the elevator doors closed.