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elevator ding startled me. I was so wired with nervousness, I nearly jumped off the stool. The officer sauntered over to the desk and handed me his business card.
     
    “Here’s my card, Miss Carrington. I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow. I’m probably going to need more details on the description of the woman for the report. After I write it up, I’ll give you a call to make sure the statement is correct. If you have any questions, or need anything else, call me at that number.”
     
    I watched the officer until the large plate glass door swung shut behind him. A blast of cold night air blew in before it shut completely, all the way to where I had posted myself behind the desk on my favorite stool. Although it was getting to be summer in New York, the air in the dead of night could still, on some nights, have the sharp bite of early spring. How ironic, 'the dead of the night'. Only a saying like that could come to life at a place like the Greymore Hotel.
     
    The thought gave me a shudder as I leaned my elbows on the counter top and pressed my book flat to the surface. With my head down, I pretended to read. I don’t know who I was putting on this act for. No one was in the lobby. Everybody had left. The Draconian silence of the night was my only companion.
     
    I waited like that, with my head down, pretending to read, for what I considered to be a sufficient amount of time to pass before I dared to retrieve my 'stash' from the restroom stall. I couldn’t even think the words, money, loot, booty or treasure, let alone say them. It was as if it were some kind of prize I had won. I guess I felt it was. To me, it was like winning the lottery, at least that’s what I told myself for the time being, a lottery that could land me in jail. That snake I felt earlier running up my spine was probably none other than the snake from the Garden of Eden who had coaxed me to take the money. And just like Eve in the story of temptation, I took the forbidden fruit and the risk that went with it.
     
    I slipped off the stool and glanced around the lobby as I made my way across its emptiness toward my hiding place. My nervousness sharpened my senses as I proceeded, the sense of hearing being the most acute. I heard every tick of the wall clock as I carefully turned the latch on the restroom door and opened it gently. I was like a Ninja, stealthy and with nerves of steel. I prided myself on how confident I was, then my finger slipped on the latch, and it made a loud click that echoed around the lobby. I froze. My heart pounded faster and faster, louder and louder until I thought I could barely breathe. Fuck. Forget the Ninja shit. I grabbed the briefcase from the stall and bee lined it back to the side office and shut the door. Alert to any unusual sounds, other than my heart beating out of my chest that might threaten to interrupt my mission. Once safely in the office, I transferred the bundles of hundred dollar bills into my backpack. They barely fit. I tugged hard on my spiral notebook filled with notes from Literature class to make room for the bundles. They settled into the deepest part of the backpack as I removed it. I pulled so hard, I nearly flung a couple rubber band wrapped bundles onto the floor as the notebook finally pulled free from the tightly compacted space. I zipped it shut and shoved it far to the back under the desk in its usual place where I stored it every night. I stood up and let out a deep breath. The backpack looked huge and so obvious, but I didn’t think that anyone would suspect it contained thousands of hundred dollar bills.
     
    I grabbed the, now empty, briefcase and went to the back alley where the hotel had a metal industrial garbage dumpster for compacting trash. I stretched the sleeve of my work jacket down over the heel of my hand in hopes that the polyester fabric would remove my fingerprints. I rubbed the latches and handle the best I could then gave it a toss into the open rusty brown