“How’re you feeling today?” she asks me, her mouth full of eggs.
“I’m better, just shaken up.” I give her a wan smile. “I just hope I can hold down food today. My stomach’s been a little upset.”
“I feel you,” she says.
“Think you can be ready in the next ten minutes?”
I’ve started to crunch a piece of bread, about all I can handle, when a heavy knock interrupts the quiet.
We look at each other.
“Is that Noah?”
“He doesn’t usually come in through the front.” At first, a glimmer of hope gets me excited. Did he hop on a plane after what happened last night?
Last night when my wallet, credit cards, and ID were stolen.
Frowning, I pause as I hear another thud. My address is on my ID.
I read somewhere that most robberies happen in the early morning.
Backing up toward the wall, I begin to be overcome by an evil foreboding. My fingers reach for the cross necklace but only brush against skin.
Is it the man from last night coming to rob my house now? The jewelry and cash and my sanity weren’t enough?
I huddle in the corner, my back against the wall.
As I shake my head, my recent conversation with Noah drifts into my thoughts. He had mentioned a car of some type. A luxury one, parked outside the house. What was strange was the grim look on his face when he asked.
Is someone watching the house? Could this all be connected?
“Charlotte?” Stationary, I refuse to move. “Would you like me to answer the door?”
“I don’t think we should answer.”
Elle slowly makes her way to the front as I warn, “Just don’t open the door—the alarm’s still on.”
“It’s the police.” She states it matter of factly.
“What?” I’m horrified.
“Come see for yourself.”
It feels like it takes me an hour to make my way to the window, but I eventually do and then peer out the curtains over Elle’s shoulder. Sure enough, a squad car is parked in my driveway, and two men dressed in suits stand on my porch, looking very formal instead of wearing their usual dark-colored uniforms.
What in the . . .
Both Elle and I seem to respond to the police in an unfavorable manner, as if we’re both hiding something. My hands tremble as I reach for the dead bolt, and she takes two steps back, stepping on my toes.
Have they come to arrest me?
The men must notice the movement of the curtains, and the doorbell chimes again, almost as if it’s a premonition.
“I have to shut off the alarm.”
Elle looks like a ghost, her skin void of any pigment. After deactivating the security system, I’m forced to step around her, because she’s frozen in place. “Elle.” I touch her elbow. “Are you ready for school?”
She doesn’t move a muscle, so I gently move her aside as I cheerfully greet the officers on my porch. “Hello.” My hand flies to my clavicle, where I feel the absence of my cross necklace. Every time I encounter the police, it’s a fleeting reminder that I’m still in hiding, even in plain sight. I remind myself that they want only to help solve the robbery and aren’t here to harm me.
“Hi, ma’am, are you Mrs. Coburn?” The shorter one with the receding hairline speaks first. I nod, my hand tight on the frame of the heavy door.
“Charlotte Coburn?” says the other one, dressed pathetically in a dark-brown suit with black loafers. Everything about him is mismatched. His ears are too big, his nose too narrow. His eyes are small and too close together. His clothing isn’t coordinated.
Nodding a second time as confirmation, I never loosen my grip on the wood.
“I’m Detective Williams, and this is Detective Rodgers,” the shorter one says. I notice his tie is loosened, and he seems a bit frazzled for a detective.
The other one, Rodgers, is taller, rail thin, and has sandy-blond hair. He looks to be a decade younger than Williams, probably early forties, and he flashes his badge. “May we come in for a minute?”
“Oh, certainly.” I manage to open the door wider and motion them inside. “Can I get you anything? Coffee or tea?”
Elle is still standing rigid, her body like a statue of a Greek goddess. “This is Elizabeth,” I say to them, as if her name explains everything. They nod to her as she stands there stammering hello.
“Nah, we’re good.” Rodgers answers for them both as Williams’s voice is shut out. I assume he probably did want a cup of joe or a strong drink. He looks worn down. Detectives have to investigate homicides, and with murders dictating their lives and schedules, they have no semblance of normalcy. Whoever heard of a serial killer clocking in for his shift?
Pointing to the sofa, I motion for them to sit.
Elle looks troubled as she shuffles her feet, and I realize she’s probably wondering how she’s going to get to school.
“Thanks.” Williams sinks back on one side, resting heavily against the couch cushions as Rodgers takes the opposite corner. The men are distinctly different. Rodgers perches on the edge of his seat, his long legs dangling out in front of him, his patterned socks sticking out from his too-short pants. Williams settles in, making himself comfortable, acting as if this is his own family room.
“Give me a minute, gentlemen.” Turning to Elle, I point to the kitchen. “I made you lunch; it’s on the counter. Do buses run at this time, or should I get you a ride?”
“Um.” She looks at her phone. “I can still catch one if I hurry.”
“Okay.” I pat her shoulder. “If for some reason you miss it, don’t you dare skip school. Come back, and I’ll give you a ride.”
Elle glances at the men one more time and then saunters toward the kitchen.
I sink down into the opposite chair, trying to control the tapping of my foot.
After pulling out a notepad and pen, Williams begins. “You were mugged last night?”
“Yes.” I clasp my hands in my lap. “But why isn’t Officer Mahoney or Sparrow here? They took down all my information after it happened.”
“We wanted to talk to you about it, and Mahoney’s off; Sparrow’s in later.” Williams taps the notebook against his knee as Rodgers explains that they are the detectives assigned to the case.
“Mahoney wanted us to check on you,” Williams says.
“Check on me?” My hand goes to my naked throat.
Rodgers raises an eyebrow. “He was concerned, to put it mildly.”
“Concerned that the perpetrator got away?”
“Yes, and about your safety.”
Rodgers adds, “Women like you shouldn’t be on that side of town alone.”
“Women like me . . .”
Williams interrupts, shooting Rodgers a death stare. “We aren’t trying to imply anything, just that it’s a dangerous neighborhood, as you unfortunately found out. Seems you’re a classy lady, and you live in a more desirable area. Better choices are around here.”
I warily eye them.
An uncomfortable silence looms between us. Taking a breath to calm myself, I say, “I know you have good intentions with what you’re saying.”
They shake their heads in succession.
“What questions did you have?” I keep my voice neutral. “I thought I answered all I could at the station.”