Chapter 33
Who could’ve been inside that suitcase is pretty much all anyone’s been able to talk about on my office Slack.
Which is great for me, since I’m far too wired to get any work done.
I never made it to bed last night; I’ve been wide awake, here on the sofa, flipping between CNN and all the networks for hours.
Now it’s almost noon, which means the local news is about to come on again.
My phone rings from the coffee table. It’s Derrick.
“How are you holding up?” he asks.
“I think I’m just kind of numb,” I say, twirling my fingers in the white patch on Fritter’s back while he naps next to me. “It’s all just so tragic, I can’t really wrap my head around it.”
I suppress a grin so Derrick won’t hear the elation in my voice.
“I know what you mean,” he says, letting out a sigh. “Twenty years in real estate and I’ve never dealt with anything even close to this.”
“Yeah, it’s horrific.”
I’m doing my best to sound sympathetic, but good Christ, when is he getting to the point?
“Have you, um, heard anything from the sellers?” I prod gently. “I can’t even imagine what they must be going through.”
“Well, that’s why I’m calling,” he says. “Crass as it may be, business marches on, you know?”
I laugh weakly.
“Theresa called a minute ago,” he continues. “She says the police should be done processing the house in a day or two. But it’s hard to tell if she really knows that for sure, or if she’s only trying to paint a rosier picture than what’s all over the TV.”
“Mmm.” The twelve o’clock broadcast starts in one minute. Doesn’t he realize that?
“Anyway, they had eight offers come in, including yours. Not as many as I would’ve guessed, probably interest rates starting to spook people.”
Now we’re getting somewhere.
“Five have pulled out.”
Five?
“That’s it?” My voice spikes several octaves. Fritter stirs awake as I rise from the couch. “Sorry,” I say, getting a hold of myself. “Too much caffeine mixed with the shock, I think.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the others drop off soon, too,” Derrick says. “But does that mean you and Ian want to stay in? Theresa was trying to politely find out—she said there’s no pressure to decide right now, of cour—”
“We’re staying in.” I take a breath to steady myself. “Sorry, I must be really on edge. What I mean is, I’m not ready—we’re not ready—to pull out quite yet. Let’s just see what else we find out today.”
The News 4 theme music starts up, the camera closes in on the anchor desk.
“I have to go, Derrick, but I’ll—we’ll stay in touch.”
The midday anchors waste hardly any time on small talk before the woman half of the duo tosses it to Chad. He’s stationed back in front of the dream house, no doubt relishing his luck in claiming such a career-making story.
“Thanks, Janice,” he begins, face grim, tone appropriately solemn.
“We’ve been getting new information all morning long about what, exactly, went on here on Stonebrook Avenue, and, of course, trying to learn more about the victim.
But I want to start with one especially significant development that we can report for you, exclusively, here on News 4.
“I’ve just spoken with sources inside the Montgomery County police department who tell me we can expect to see some kind of surveillance footage at a press conference that’ll take place later today.
I’m told it pertains to the identification of a vehicle that may have been involved.
As soon as we know the precise time of that press conference, we’ll be sure to share it with you, and we’ll of course carry it live. ”
So there’s already video. I knew there would be eventually, but that was faster than I would’ve guessed.
I’m back to pacing the length of the apartment—window to kitchen, kitchen to window, Fritter tracking me from the couch like the pendulum on a grandfather clock.
I’m reviewing the particulars of that night in my mind, and I couldn’t have been more careful.
I’m sure of it.