I found a little note tucked in the drawer of my desk: He knows. Run.
Emily Clarke, could you have a look at the catalogue cards in drawer three? It seems the students have mixed everything up again, said the librarys head, Angela Peterson, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. And please dont stay late tonight youve been working too many hours lately.
Right, Angela, Ill sort it out, Emily replied, barely lifting her eyes from the screen. Just need to finish the electronic inventory of the new arrivals first.
Angela gave a soft shake of her head and drifted out of the cataloguing department, the click of her heels echoing on the aged parquet. The town library occupies the old grammar school building, with its lofty ceilings, decorative plasterwork and creaky floorboards that announce a visitor long before they appear.
Emily really had been pulling late nights for the past three weeks, but not because she was a workaholic. At home it had been dead quiet ever since Simon walked out, taking not just his suitcase but the warmth that used to fill their small flat. Now the only sound was the ticking of the ancient mantel clock that had belonged to her grandmother.
At the library, though, there was always something to do. Emily loved the smell of books, the rustle of pages, even the dust that stubbornly settled on the top shelves despite the best efforts of the cleaning lady, Aunt Clara. Here she felt useful, in her element.
Emily, dont forget we have a meettheauthor event tomorrow, Poppy popped its head in from the subscription desk. We need the small hall set up and the flyers printed.
Ive got the flyers ready, theyre in the top drawer of my desk. Grab them yourself, I still need to finish the catalogue, Emily said with a smile.
Poppy nodded, walked over to the massive oak desk where Emily was working, pulled out the top drawer and rummaged for the folder of flyers.
Whats this? she asked, pulling out a loose sheet along with the folder.
Huh? Emily turned toward her.
Just a note. Must have fallen out of the folder.
Poppy handed her a folded A5 piece of paper. Emily unfolded it and read three words scrawled in a hurried hand: He knows. Run.
Her heart skipped a beat. Her first thought was Its a joke, but deep down she knew it wasnt. She slipped the note into the pocket of her cardigan.
Probably some student prank, she said, trying to sound nonchalant. Someone must have dropped it. Theyre always passing notes around here.
Poppy shrugged. Alright, Ill get the flyers up.
When the door shut behind Poppy, Emily pulled the note out again. He knows. Run. Who knew what? Why? And who had written it? The handwriting looked familiar, but she couldnt place it. It wasnt any colleagues style. Could it be Simon? Why would he be warning her? Their split had been quiet, almost amicable hed simply said he didnt feel the same anymore, that it was best to stay friends. So ordinary it felt like a cheap romance novel.
Emily tried to focus on the catalogue, but the note kept looping in her mind. By the end of the day she finally finished, handed in the keys to the security guard and stepped out into a damp October evening. A fine drizzle fell, and the streetlamps painted yellow halos in the mist.
The walk home was about fifteen minutes. She usually enjoyed the route past the old park, through the cosy courtyard with its childrens swing set but tonight every shadow felt threatening, every sound made her jump. He knows. Run. Who was she supposed to run from?
She slipped into the stairwell and breathed a sigh of relief. Upstairs it was quiet and lit. She went up to the third floor, opened her flat door and was greeted by the usual: silence, the faint smell of cinnamon from the sachet shed hung by the entryway to soften the emptiness left by Simon.
She kicked off her shoes, hung her coat, and shuffled into the kitchen. She set the kettle on, fetched yesterdays leftover salad from the fridge. She didnt feel hungry, but needed to keep herself occupied.
The phone rang and made her jump. The display read Mum.
Hey, love, she said, trying to keep her voice calm.
Emily, dear, how are you? Mums voice was edged with worry. Ive been feeling uneasy all day. Everything okay with you?
All good, mum, Emily replied, lying. Her mother was already fretting over the breakup, and the last thing she needed was a mysterious note. Just tired from work.
Why dont you come over this weekend? Ill bake a cake, you can relax
Maybe, Mum. Lets chat on Friday, okay?
After hanging up, Emily felt even lonelier. Her tea had gone cold, she wasnt hungry enough to watch TV. She pulled the note out again, staring at the three words.
A knock at the door made her freeze. Tenoclock who could be calling at that hour? She tiptoed to the peephole and saw Mr Michael Stevens, the elderly neighbour from upstairs, standing in the hallway.
Who is it? she called, just in case.
Its me, Michael. Open up, love, he said, his voice a little shaky.
She opened the door but left the chain on.
Sorry for the late visit, he said, looking embarrassed. My pipes leaking downstairs, thought the water might be coming your way.
No, its dry here, Emily replied, relieved. Thanks for checking.
Good. Ive called a plumber; theyll be here tomorrow.
When Michael left, Emily felt a bit foolish. Shed been spooked by a note that was probably just a prank from some overeager student. She tried to calm herself, but the night stretched on, each creak of the old building sounding louder than usual.
Sleep didnt come. She turned over, listening to the rain patter against the windows and distant traffic. The ordinary noises of the city night felt oddly ominous.
Morning found her blearyeyed. After a quick bite and a strong cup of coffee she headed back to work. The day ahead was packed the authors arrival, setting up the hall, finishing the new arrivals.
The library was already buzzing. Angela was issuing instructions, Poppy was arranging chairs in the small hall, and Aunt Clara was scrubbing the floors with a sigh.
Emily, a bloke asked for you earlier, Aunt Clara called as Emily passed by. Tall chap in a dark coat. I told him you werent back yet.
A bloke? Emily stopped. Did he give his name?
No, just said hed be back later.
The words He knows. Run flashed through her mind again. Who could that be? A visitor? A publisher? She tried to push it aside and settled at her workstation.
Half an hour later there was a knock.
Come in, Emily called, eyes still on the screen.
The door opened to reveal a tall man in a dark coat. Emilys breath caught. It was Andrew, a former classmate of Simons. Theyd only met a few times over the years, and she barely knew him.
Hello, Emily, he said, closing the door behind him. Sorry to barge in, but we need to talk.
About what? she asked, voice higher than she intended.
Andrew glanced around, as if checking nobody else was listening, then took a seat opposite her.
Its about Simon, he began quietly. And about you.
Were over, Emily replied flatly. If you need something from him, go straight to him.
Its not about the breakup. Itsmuch bigger.
He leaned forward, voice dropping.
Did you get my note? He knows. Run?
Emily felt a cold shiver run down her spine.
Your note? What does that even mean?
Andrews eyes flicked to the door.
It means Simon isnt who he says he is. He knows Ive been digging into his affairs, and now hes onto you as well.
What are you on about? Emily asked, heart hammering.
Simons been working for a company called Eastbound Investments. Its a scam thats ripped off hundreds of retirees, promising high returns and then disappearing with the cash.
Eastbound Investments? she asked, frowning. I thought he worked at a car dealership.
Thats a front, Andrew said, pulling out his phone and showing a photo. It was Simon talking to a stranger outside a drab grey building. That was taken three days ago. That building houses the firms office.
Emily shook her head.
No, Simon wouldnt.
I didnt want to believe it either, Andrew said. But five years ago he was involved in a similar scheme up north, got away with a new identity, moved here and met you.
The room seemed to spin. The man shed lived with for four years, the one who cooked on weekends and collected vinyl, was apparently part of a con targeting the elderly.
Why did you write Run? she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Because hes dangerous, Andrew replied, eyes hard. Since I started asking questions, Ive been watched. The last person who tried to expose them had an accident.
Emily remembered the uneasy feeling that had crept over her that evening maybe it wasnt paranoia after all.
So what do I do? she asked, panic rising.
Get out of town for a while. Do you have anywhere you can go?
She thought of her mother, who lived in a small market town three hours away.
I can go to Mums.
Good. Pack a bag and leave tonight. Ill let you know when its safe to come back.
When Andrew left, Emily sat staring at the empty desk, the words He knows. Run echoing in her head. It felt like shed been thrust into a detective novel shed been devouring for months.
She marched to Angelas office.
I need a few days off. Family emergency, she said, trying to sound convincing.
Angela looked concerned.
Everything alright? You look pale.
Mums ill, Emily replied, lying again. I have to be with her.
Take the time you need. Well manage the author event without you.
Emily quickly packed a small bag passport, some cash in pounds, a change of clothes and called her mother.
Mum, Im on the 6pm train tonight.
Is everything okay? her mother asked, worry clear.
Justmissing you, Emily said, forcing a smile.
She passed the bookshelf on the way out and stopped at a framed photograph: her and Simon on a sunny beach, happy and sunkissed. She stared at his face, trying to reconcile the man she thought she knew with the one Andrew described.
A knock at the flats door made her freeze. She tiptoed to the peephole and saw Simon himself standing in the hallway.
Her heart thudded. He knows. Run. She didnt know what to do.
Emily, I know youre home, Simon said, his voice as calm as ever. Please, open the door. We need to talk.
She stayed silent, every instinct screaming to flee.
Its about Andrew, he continued. He told me you were going to leave. Hes trying to frame me.
Emilys mind raced. Could he be telling the truth? Was he protecting her?
Ill leave a note, Simon said, stepping back. He disappeared down the stairs, the sound of his footsteps echoing away.
She waited, then cautiously opened the door a crack. On the floor lay a folded piece of paper. She snatched it up, shut the door quickly, and read:
Emily, Im undercover. Ive been working with the police on the Eastbound Investments case. Andrew is one of the suspects. Dont trust him. Call me, Ill explain everything. Simon.
Emily read it twice, then again. Two notes now: He knows. Run and Dont trust him. Which one was the truth?
She dialed her old friend Megan, whod become a prosecutor.
Megan, Im sorry to bother you, Emily began, voice shaking. I need you to look into a guy for me. Its urgent.
Whats happened? Megan asked, concern in her tone.
Its a long story. Can we meet?
An hour later they were in a tiny café two streets from Emilys flat. Megan listened, then stared at her coffee cup, tapping a finger.
I can check both Simon and Andrew, she said slowly. Itll take some time, but well get to the bottom of this.
What should I do now? Emily asked.
Go to your mums. Itll be safer there while I dig.
Emily boarded the eastbound train that evening, watching the city lights fade behind her. She felt like a heroine out of one of the mystery novels she loved.
Midjourney, her phone buzzed.
Emily, I found out the truth, Megans voice was tense. Simon is indeed an undercover officer. Hes been feeding intel to the crime unit. Andrew, on the other hand, is one of the founding partners of Eastbound Investments.
Emilys breath caught.
So Andrew was trying to use me to get at Simon?
Exactly. He hoped youd panic, maybe even turn on Simon, buying him time.
What now?
Come back. Simons looking for you. He wants to talk.
Emily got off at the next station, turned the train around, and headed back.
At the central station, Simon waited, looking weary but relieved.
Thank goodness youre safe, he said, pulling her into a hug.
Why didnt you tell me? she asked, tears welling.
I couldnt. It was a secret operation. Any leak could have blown it wide open. I left because I thought it would keep you out of danger.
You broke my heart, she whispered, halflaughing.
Im sorry, he said, sincere. I never wanted to hurt you.
They walked out of the station together, the rain still falling.
Is the case over? Emily asked.
Almost. Weve arrested Andrew. A few more people are still at large, but its closing.
Back at her flat, Emily stared at the two notes on her table. Both had been true in their own way. Life turned out to be messier than any detective story shed ever read.
She walked over to the window, looking out at the twinkling city lights. For the first time in weeks she felt she had a choice. And that felt like the most important thing of all.
