It sounded like Dr. Callendar had offered to meet for twenty minutes, but he could easily return in twenty seconds. I waited a few breaths, uncurled from under the desk, and beat it to the conference room, where I could legitimately sit and gather my breath and scattered wits for a moment. Then I dashed to the staircase on the opposite end of the FMC and strode down the stairs, struggling not to run any more. The July afternoon sun glowed in the west. The air was warm, but not oppressive. I took a deep breath. I was free. I'd made it. And I'd never do that again. A little risk was a fine thing after playing the good girl my whole life. But I had no taste for outright danger. I could have been arrested. I could have been expelled. I could have been strung up by Dr. Callendar if he hadn't been called away by a suspicious death. Suspicious death. He had to be talking about Kurt. Unless St. Joe's turned out to be a hotbed of killings as well as incest, we'd only suffered once suspicious death recently.
