Part 14 (2/2)
Her gaze flicked to the shadowy tower of trees that marched right up to the edge of my parking lot then spoke into her shoulder mike. ”George, I need you to go into the woods on the other side of town. Detain...” Her gaze flicked to mine.
”Six feet, maybe one sixty. Brown s.h.i.+rt.” I spread my hands. ”That's all I got.”
Deb's eyes lifted to the heavens for help. That was the only place she was going to get it too. ”Just grab anyone you find in the vicinity of six feet tall and detain them for questioning.”
”Anyone?”
”Roger that. Send Billy to Doc Becca's for crowd control. Stat.” She indicated the building. ”Let's go.”
”Front is locked.” I headed around the side. My back door still gaped open.
”I'll a.s.sume it wasn't like that when you came home.”
”Please do.” I wasn't an idiot. My parents might not have locked their doors since the dawn of time, but I did.
”Was the door locked?”
”I used my key.” I frowned. I'd just a.s.sumed I was opening it. Might it have been closed and unlocked? I had no idea.
Maybe I was an idiot.
”Don't touch anything.” Deb used her shoulder mike again to ask for Ross Quinleven, Three Harbors Police Department's version of CSI.
”My prints are going to be everywhere already.” It wasn't like I dusted the doork.n.o.b or the railing on the staircase. It wasn't like I'd dusted anything in a long, long time, which Deb was going to see for herself in a minute. I should probably be more embarra.s.sed about that than I was.
”I know, but you don't want to smudge anyone else's.”
”He wore gloves,” I repeated.
”We'll still follow procedure. Maybe he took them off so he could pick your lock.” At my incredulous glance, she continued: ”You'd be surprised what criminals do that they shouldn't.”
”Like picking door locks then trying to kill people?”
”There you go.”
I took the stairs to my apartment carefully. Once you were told not to use the handrail, suddenly the handrail seemed a lot more necessary than you realized.
The sight of the tossed bedcovers, the pillow on the floor, the table in pieces, the lamp tipped over, made me s.h.i.+ver. I'd always felt safe here. My mistake.
”Take me through what happened.”
”Joe dropped me off.”
”After Watley's?”
”Yes. No.” I was so tired I was getting shaky. Or maybe my being shaky was making me more tired. ”Owen dropped me at my parents' after Watley's.”
”He was with you all night?”
”Yeah.”
She lifted her eyebrows. I didn't elaborate. I only had so many more words left before my brain shut down. I wasn't going to waste them trying to explain something I didn't understand already.
”He dropped you at your parents' at what time?”
”Seven maybe? I had breakfast, and Joe brought me here.”
”You didn't notice anything off when you came in? Anything where it shouldn't be? Doors closed when you thought you'd left them open, or vice versa?”
”You think he was already inside when I got here?”
”You tell me.”
My gaze wandered the apartment. ”It's a little small to hide in.”
Kitchen, living, bedroom were all one. The only doors were to the outside, the bathroom, and the closet. s.h.i.+t. The closet. Had he been in there watching me undress? My s.h.i.+ver became a shudder.
Deb set her hand on my arm, and I jumped. ”Calm down. It's over.”
”Is it?”
That depended on why someone had tried to kill me. Because I was there? Did that mean once I wasn't, I was safe? I didn't think so.
Deb gave me an awkward pat. ”What happened next?”
”I went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and ... stuff.”
”Shower curtain?”
”Yes. I mean no. Yes, I have one. No, I didn't look behind it.” Had the intruder been behind my shower curtain watching me pee? This just got better and better.
Did people peek behind their shower curtain every time they went into the bathroom? Paranoid much? Maybe I should be paranoid more.
”Go on,” Chief Deb urged.
My attention kept drifting. From the ease with which Deb brought me back to the topic, I wasn't the first victim to do so.
I was a victim. I didn't like it.
Deb snapped her fingers in front of my nose.
Whoops.
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