25. Reese
Chapter 25
Reese
T hree days passed, and we still didn’t have any more information that would solve this mystery. But whoever it was hadn’t made an appearance or done anything that might help reveal their identity. We’d returned Jolene’s diary to the historical society, but Margaret hadn’t been able to give us more information. As we’d assumed, she hadn’t read the book, and she said she probably wouldn’t have the time.
There were no records in town of Jolene marrying, let alone giving birth to a daughter and keeping her hidden inside the home.
“Maybe whoever was after me has given up?” I said as we sat at the breakfast table together, him with a bag of blood and me with a bagel slathered with cream cheese and a cup of coffee.
“Perhaps.”
“If so, we can put this behind us and focus on helping Jolene, among other things.” Like us. Each night, we slept together and made love. During the day, we took long walks on the beach or went into town for ice cream. At the end of the day, we sat and read books or talked about anything and everything.
With no new information, we didn’t know what to do about the doll that remained in my vehicle’s trunk.
I was falling more and more in love with Wolf all the time. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to tell him I wanted immortality, but I was close. He meant the world to me, and the thought of a life without him gutted me.
“There’s nothing I’d enjoy more than—”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Did you order pizza?” I quipped, rising from the sofa where I’d been lounging beside him.
“Maybe it’s a fan seeking an autograph,” Wolf said as he walked with me out into the foyer.
“Cool. Or it could be my stalker, stopping by to chat about what they can do next.” My laughter faded. “Actually, that wouldn't be funny because they probably would've done new things already. I hope this is over.”
For whatever reason, as I reached for the doorknob, my heart fluttered with unease.
Wolf threw me a glance, his eyebrows raised. “Let’s hope it's pizza, then.”
I opened the door, only for my pulse to surge when I found Detective Carter standing on the porch, a stern look on his face. The unease emanating from him washed over me like a cold wave, dousing my cheer in one swoop.
“Detective Carter?” My voice came out small. “What brings you here?”
“Reese.” He gestured toward the foyer. “I need to discuss something with you. May I come in?”
My stomach lurched as fear tumbled through me. “Do you have any information about my stalker?”
He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Not today. This is something else.”
Before I could process his response, a growl rumbled in Wolf's chest. “What is this about?” The protective edge in his voice wrapped around me like a shield.
“Wolf. It’s fine,” I said, but the worry coming from him transferred to me, bringing on my anxiety.
“May I come inside?” Detective Carter asked again, his tone stiff.
“Sure. Please.” I stepped back, gesturing for him to enter. The last thing I wanted was to feel cornered, but I had to know what this was about.
As he stepped in, Wolf moved in front of me and kept a careful eye on the detective.
“Come into the living room,” I said, my voice higher pitched than I liked.
He followed us inside the room.
“Sit down, both of you.” The detective waved to chairs, and my heart started slamming into my rib cage. Something was wrong.
Wolf guided me to the couch and sat, perching me on his lap. I felt safe in his arms, but everyone knew safety was a relative thing, a bubble that could pop at any moment.
“What’s this about?” I asked, trying to remain calm.
“Reese, where were you last night at approximately eight fifteen p.m.?” Detective Carter's steady gaze pinned me in place.
“I was with Wolf. We were here, together.”
He nodded, jotting something down on his phone. “Were you ever apart?”
Wolf replied before I had a chance to speak. “I left briefly to collect some belongings, and I believe it was at about that time. But I was with her prior to that and for the rest of the night.”
Detective Carter studied us both, his finger pausing above his phone. “I see.”
I leaned forward. “Wait, why does this matter?”
His eyes darkened. “Would you allow me to search your house for one specific item?”
“What?” I barked. Panic swelled inside me, compressing my throat. “What item?”
“Are you granting permission?” he asked. “May I proceed?”
I swallowed hard, glancing up at Wolf, whose expression had stiffened. “What do you think?” I said only for him.
“Trust your instincts. If you feel uncomfortable, say no.”
“You're welcome to have a lawyer present, if you'd like,” the detective said.
“Why would I need a lawyer?” I asked. “I haven't done anything wrong.”
“This may only be a formality.” But from the sharp look in his eyes, he meant business. Cop business.
Drawing a deep breath, I nodded. “Go ahead, Detective.”
“Thank you.” He stood, and we did as well.
The detective rummaged through the living room, checking corners and under furniture, moving fast but with careful precision.
“What are you looking for?” I asked, wishing I could snap the tension in the air.
“I’ll know if I see it.”
Anxiety knotted in my stomach as he looked under each piece of furniture and opened all the side table drawers and even the game closet, riffling through my things as if I was a common thief. I followed him, hovering nearby, unable to shake the sense that something wasn't right. Wolf kept close, his hand gripping mine, squeezing it in reassurance I couldn’t grab onto.
“I’d like to look in the kitchen next,” Detective Carter said, and we trailed behind him down the hall and into the room where he turned on all the lights. He opened the fridge. The light flickered on, illuminating the jars of mustard and pickles. A bottle of ketchup. Leftovers from my meal last night. I barely resisted an irrational urge to slam the door shut.
“Find anything?” I croaked.
“Just condiments,” he said dryly, moving on to the cabinets, inspecting each one with a careful eye. My heart raced as he shifted aside packaged pasta and canned beans, peering behind them.
Next, he moved on to the dining room where my old wooden table stood, a vase of freshly picked flowers from the garden in the center—a splash of cheer in this grim situation.
Time passed as he searched the room.
Detective Carter finally cleared his throat. “Do you have a first-floor bathroom?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Show me.”
“Sure.” The word felt like lead in my mouth. I didn’t know how I could refuse.
He checked the half-bathroom, even examining under the sink. Each scrape of his shoes on the floor jarred through me. The world felt heavy, like a storm was brewing, and I lay exposed on the beach.
He went through my office, saying nothing, even dropping to his knees to peer under my desk and opening the fireplace damper to squint up the chimney, his penlight flashing. The walls still held the scent of fresh paint, and the familiar sight of my disorganized stacks of papers was anything but comforting. He shifted the piles. I reminded myself that he was just doing his job, but it felt invasive.
He gestured to the bookcase where I proudly kept one copy of each book I'd published. “You must write a lot.”
“I do. You know how it is.” I forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood.
He closed the drawer, nodding thoughtfully. He went to the foyer, us trailing behind him. “May I check the basement next?”
“Yes, of course.” Had I known him better, I’d have joked that I’d cleaned it out, and he'd find nothing but a furnace and the oil tank, plus a couple empty boxes on the wooden shelves. The heavy knot in my throat stifled my humor.
He wasn't gone long and rejoined us on the first level. “Nothing down there.”
I could've told him that.
We took the stairs to the second floor, and he meticulously went through each bedroom, closet, and bathroom. The walls seemed to shrink in as I waited for him to find whatever he was looking for.
“Does this house have an attic?” he asked as we left the last bedroom.
“Yes. Why?”
“Let’s take a look.” His tone came out deliberate, making my spine quiver with fear.
Following him up the narrow staircase to the attic, my heart pounded in my throat. The flickering bulb lit the space above, wavering shadows on the walls.
As we left the stairwell, something caught my eye under the stark light.
A statue about one foot tall, carved from pale gray stone, its features obscured, stood in the center of the empty room.
“What the hell?” I gasped, dread pooling in my stomach. “I didn’t—” Panic surged through me. “That wasn’t here before. I don’t know how it got here.”
“Yes, I'm sure you didn't.” From the detective’s tone, I could tell he didn't believe me.
Wolf's expression shifted from curiosity to concern.
“Hey,” he said softly, his arms wrapping around me from behind. “I believe you.”
Adrenaline shot through my veins. “I didn’t bring this here. I wouldn’t—”
“Reese,” Detective Carter said, his serious eyes glancing back and forth between us. “I have camera evidence showing you stealing this statue from the historical society last evening.”
I was drowning in ice water. “What? No! That’s impossible. I would never steal anything. I was here all last night.”
“You have no alibi for the time in question.” The detective pulled his phone from his back pocket and swiped into it. He held it up, displaying the image of the statue standing on a table inside the historical society’s lobby. “This security feed shows you taking the item shortly before eight thirty.”
The video played, and he was right. I watched as “I” slunk into the historical society foyer from beside the stairs and walked over to the statue, lifting it and slipping it into a cloth bag before peering around. My face showed plainly in the image. I hurried back down the hall toward the rear door.
Panic surged through me, a tsunami crashing over my senses. “No, that can’t be right. That's not me.” Though it sure looked like me. “I swear, I didn’t do it.” The tremor in my voice betrayed my fear as I caught a glimpse of Wolf, his gaze darkening with a protective fervor that chilled my bones.
Detective Carter placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I understand this is unsettling, but you need to listen. I’m going to inform you of your rights now. The evidence is overwhelming.”
“This is unreal.” Confusion and terror roared through me. “I would never take anything. Who would believe . . .?” How did this statue end up in my attic?
“I have to take you down to the station.” The detective held up a set of handcuffs. “Will you come with me calmly or do I need to cuff you?”