Chapter 2
Three whole weeks went by. I hadn't sent a single thing to my home since then.
The hallway was eerily quiet.
Every now and then, when I went out to toss the trash, I'd run into May.
She gave me a weird look.
It wasn't the arrogance or guilt from before. Instead, it was restlessness.
Right, restlessness.
She looked like she was expecting something, but also seemed bothered by something.
She even went out of her way to say hi, asking, "Did you stop ordering stuff online lately?"
I just shot her a look and stayed silent.
Her restlessness seemed to ramp up even more.
Sometimes, when I got home late at night, I could hear May and her son arguing from their apartment.
It sounded like they were arguing about how there was too much stuff and nowhere to put it.
I didn't pay it any mind.
I figured this whole thing would blow over eventually.
Once May couldn't steal my packages anymore, she'd finally leave me alone.
As for the two thousand dollars I lost, I just considered it gone.
*****
On Friday afternoon of the third week, I was sketching out a design when my phone started ringing.
It was a number I didn't recognize.
I answered, "Hello?"
On the other end, a man's voice came through, sounding exhausted and unsure. "Is this Ms. Claire Dawson, the owner of Apt. 1802?
"I'm the property manager."
My heart skipped a beat. Property manager? "Yes, it's me. Is there something wrong?"
There was a brief silence on the other end, like he was trying to figure out what to say.
Then, with a conflicted tone, he said, "Could you come over? It's about your packages."
About my packages?
All my packages were delivered to my office. What did the property manager have to do with this?
I was filled with confusion, but still agreed. "Alright, I'll be there right away."
After hanging up, I told my boss I needed to step out and headed home from work.
On the whole way, I couldn't stop thinking about the property manager's strange tone.
What could possibly make him talk like that?
Was May causing trouble again?
Did she turn the tables and report me to the property manager, claiming I was slandering her?
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
Whatever came my way, I'd deal with it.
I'd like to see what kind of tricks she got up her sleeve this time.
When I got to the property management office, the guy who greeted me was James Parker, the one who'd called me.
He looked pretty young, but the dark circles under his eyes were serious. The guy looked totally wiped out.
When he saw me, it was like he'd found his savior. "Ms. Dawson, you're finally here."
He led me into a small meeting room and poured me a glass of water.
"Mr. Parker, what happened?" I asked, getting straight to the point.
James rubbed his hands together, looking really uncomfortable. "It's... It's about your neighbor, Mrs. Gardner."
Of course it was her. I sneered inwardly. "What's she up to?"
"She... she came to us to file a complaint."
"About what?"
"About you." James's expression got even stranger. "She claims you're harassing her with your deliveries."
I was stunned.
Packages? Harassing her?
I hadn't even sent anything home. How could I be harassing her?
I said, "Mr. Parker, are you sure about this?
"For the past three weeks, I've had all my packages sent straight to my office.
"I haven't sent anything home even once."
James gave me a look that said, "Yeah, I figured you'd say that."
He let out a long sigh. "We know that, too.
"We checked the package lockers. There really haven't been any packages for you. But..."
He paused, searching for the right words. "Mrs. Gardner says it's not about packages from outside. It's... the packages inside her apartment."
I was completely baffled. "What do her packages have to do with me?"
James took a sip of water, like he needed to brace himself. "She says that ever since you stopped having packages sent to your place, packages started popping up out of nowhere in her apartment."
Popping up out of nowhere? What kind of nonsense was that?
I frowned, feeling like things were starting to get downright bizarre.
James saw the disbelief on my face and got flustered. "It's true, Ms. Dawson.
"Mrs. Gardner said at first, just one or two small packages would appear out of nowhere in her living room every day.
"She thought it was her son's stuff, so she didn't pay it any mind.
"But then it got out of control. Sometimes dozens of packages a day—lipsticks, face masks, clothes, snacks...
"Her place is so packed with packages that she can't even find a spot to stand."
My heart skipped a beat.
Lipsticks, face masks, clothes, snacks... Why did these sound so familiar?
James looked at me and dropped the real bombshell. "She says all those packages that showed up out of nowhere all have your name on them—Claire Dawson."