11. Ozzie
CHAPTER 11
Ozzie
S ubfreezing air filled my lungs and stung my face as I chased after the figure fleeing Claire’s house. It was a man not quite my height, but he had some speed.
I urged my legs to go faster.
Rounding the intersection, I left the sidewalk and cut through the front yards of the corner lots, closing the gap.
The man glanced back, but there were too many shadows for me to see his face.
“State police! Stop!”
My shout only spurred the man to run faster.
Grinding out a quick growl of frustration, I wondered sometimes why I bothered wasting my breath.
We turned another corner onto a dead-end street. Beyond the last house, wilderness stretched. This area of Parker’s Landing was little more than a thin strip of houses before it melded into the forest.
I eeked the last bit of speed out of my legs, but it wasn’t enough. The man disappeared into the trees fifteen yards ahead of me. I dashed in after him, but the dense foliage stopped me after only twenty feet or so. In the dark and in the heavy bush, I’d never find him. Not without help.
But I’d have to go back to Claire’s to get it. My phone was still in my truck.
Staring into the darkness, I listened, hoping to hear him crashing through the brush. But not so much as a twig snapped. Either he was hunkered down, waiting for me to leave, or he knew the woods well and could move with much more ease than me.
It really could be either. Some people who lived around here spent more time outside than in.
Frustration clawing at me, I backed out of the woods and jogged back to Claire’s. By the time I reached her house, a cruiser sat out front, it’s red and blue lights bouncing off the house and lighting up the street.
A quick peek in the car’s windows revealed it to be empty. I headed toward Claire’s front door. The officer must be inside with her.
The knob turned easily under my hand as I let myself in. Officer Rich Kreiger and Claire stood in the living room, Pebbles clutched to Claire’s chest. She barked when she saw me and squirmed in her owner’s arms.
I wasn’t sure if that meant she was happy to see me or wanted to bite my fingers off. She hadn’t been too pleased when I scooped her out of my yard earlier—or when I halted her escape the other morning—but she’d settled down and been rather friendly in the truck on the way over here.
“You lost him, didn’t you?” Claire’s shoulders slumped.
I nodded. “He ran into the forest off Crane Road.”
“Why didn’t you call?” Kreiger spoke up. “I could have headed there and helped establish a perimeter.”
“I left my phone in my truck.” A grimace stole over my face. You’d think I was a rookie, pulling a move like that. But I hadn’t been anticipating a foot chase.
“I’ll call it in. See if Juneau can lend us their dog.”
I waved him off. “I wouldn’t bother. By the time the K-9 unit gets here, the guy will be long gone. He probably already is. Get some other officers here, though. We can retrace his path and make sure he didn’t ditch anything.”
Kreiger’s head bobbed once. “On it.” He stepped out of the room to radio dispatch.
“You doing okay?” I quirked an eyebrow at Claire once Kreiger left.
Her mouth flattened, but she nodded. “Yeah. Did you see who it was?”
“No. It was too dark, and he had a hood up. All I could tell was that it was a man a little smaller than me. Do you know why someone would want to break into your house?”
The small frown wrinkling her forehead deepened. “I’ve been wondering the same thing, but I can’t think of a reason. I don’t really have any major real estate transactions in the works right now. At least, nothing that someone would risk breaking into my house to get a look at the contracts for.”
“What contracts are you working at the moment?”
“A couple of houses, and my friend, Mina, is in the process of buying the space attached to her coffeeshop so she can expand her business. That’s it.”
“What about a rival? Are any of those contracts lucrative enough someone would want to steal them from you?”
“Maybe just Mina’s, but the only real estate agent in town who would do that is Miranda Bennett, and she’s representing the seller. She’s privy to all the same information I am, so she’d have no need to break in to get the contract.” She waved a hand, dismissively. “If this were about real estate, my office would be the far more likely target.”
“Possibly. Do you bring work home a lot?”
Claire lifted a shoulder, then scratched at Pebbles’s head. “Here and there. I try to get everything done at the office so my evenings are for me.” She met my gaze. “There’s a reason I sell real estate here and not in some major market. I’m not a workaholic. I like my free time.”
“Okay.” I chewed on the corner of my mouth and glanced toward the stairs. “Have you been upstairs yet?”
“No. Officer Kreiger said we should wait for you. He didn’t want us to disturb any evidence until you had a chance to process the scene.”
“Good. I need to run out to my truck and get my crime scene kit. Hang tight.”
At her nod, I turned and jogged outside, past Kreiger, who still talked to dispatch, coordinating resources. They probably had to call in backup from Juneau or from another state office. Parker’s Landing wasn’t big enough to have more than two officers on duty at any given time. Although I didn’t count toward that total, since I was a special detachment.
Reaching my truck, I opened the back door and took out the small duffel I kept stored on the floorboard. It contained a digital camera, fingerprint powder and cards, some evidence markers, and evidence bags in assorted sizes. I’d carried something similar in North Carolina but rarely used it. There, most cases I worked for the state bureau of investigation had an actual forensic unit dispatched to process crime scenes. Up here, though, those were reserved for the biggest cases. Parker’s Landing didn’t have a forensic team. We had to borrow Juneau’s or the state’s for major cases. Everything else, the police units processed.
I closed the truck door and glanced up as I backed away from the vehicle. A shiver of unease skittered down my spine as I stared into the flickering shadows. I could feel eyes watching.
I didn’t want to believe the guy would be brazen enough to come back, but the boldness of his break-in told me it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility for the man to be sitting in the shadows, watching us.
But why?
What did Claire have that he wanted? Was it connected to the Hammond case? Or was it something else entirely?
Giving the neighborhood one last sweeping look, I went back inside Claire’s white two-story house. Kreiger was in the living room with Claire again, but they weren’t talking now. She had her face pressed against Pebbles’s head as she stared at the wall opposite the fireplace, lost in thought. Kreiger alternated watching her and the window. He glanced my way as I approached.
“Backup units are on their way,” he said.
“Good. Keep an eye out. I’m going to take Ms. Holmes upstairs.” My gaze flicked to her. She blinked at the sound of her name, but didn’t move.
“Claire?” I tipped my head toward the staircase.
“Oh. Right.” Feet now in motion, she moved away from Kreiger.
“Don’t touch anything,” I cautioned as we ascended the steps.
“Not a problem.” She clutched Pebbles to her chest.
Once on the second floor, I led her to the front bedroom that doubled as an office-slash-library. An oversize, velvety-soft, gray chair dominated the far corner by the window. A gray and cream throw sat haphazardly over the arm, as though she’d tossed it aside to get up after snuggling in with a good book.
Closer to us, an oak desk and gray leather executive’s chair took up space in front of a wall of bookcases, all of which were stuffed full. Small potted plants dotted the shelves, some of them cascading gently over the edge. On the floor, a pale pink and yellow, delicate floral rug covered part of the beige carpet. It was a rather cozy space.
Only the sheer cream curtains fluttering in the ice-cold breeze coming through the window ruined the atmosphere.
“He dove through that window when I came up the stairs.” I nodded toward it. “Is there anything in here with any value?”
Her midnight blue gaze ran over the room, a small frown dipping between her brows. “Not really. My laptop is still in my bag downstairs. I keep some records in the desk drawer, but anything truly important is locked in the filing cabinet in the closet.” She pointed to the closed door on the far side of the room.
I set my evidence kit on the floor and opened it, taking out a pair of black nitrile gloves. After putting them on, I picked up the fingerprint powder and a fluffy brush, then crossed to the closet and dusted the doorknob.
Leaning in, I squinted at what the powder revealed. “There are a couple of prints here, but they’re probably yours.” I glanced at her over my shoulder. “We need to fingerprint you before I leave.”
Mouth flat, she nodded.
Lifting the prints, I stowed the cards in the kit, then opened the closet. Her filing cabinet sat against the back wall amidst a suitcase and a plastic tote, seemingly untouched.
Once again, I dusted for prints, then tried the drawers. They were all locked.
“I don’t think he got into these.” I peered at the lock. “They don’t look tampered with. Where do you keep the key?”
Her mouth twisted. “In my desk.”
It was my turn to frown. That was a terrible place to put a filing cabinet key. It was the first spot anyone would look.
She huffed. “Don’t give me that look. I know it’s dumb, but this is Parker’s Landing. I’m not even sure why I keep the drawers locked.
I tipped my head. She had a point. I hadn’t been in town long, but as part of orienting myself to the area, I’d studied crime statistics. There really wasn’t much.
Leaving the closet, I asked her to show me where she kept the key. After dusting for prints again, I opened the drawer and found it. Exactly where she said it would be.
“Let’s see if you had a considerate burglar.” Key in hand, I traipsed back to the closet and unlocked the filing cabinet’s top drawer. Claire peered over my shoulder as I leafed through the files.
“It looks like it’s all there.”
Shutting the drawer, I moved to the next one, and then the next. The intruder hadn’t taken any of the contents.
“Let’s check your bedroom.” Closing the bottom drawer with a thunk, I stood up and led her from the room after collecting my evidence kit.
Outside her door, she put a hand on my arm, gripping my sleeve.
“Oscar.”
Frowning, I glanced at her. She stared at the closed door with wide, frightened eyes.
“What?”
“That door should be open.”
My frown deepened. “You’re sure?”
She nodded. “Contrary to my habits at my listings, I don’t close the interior doors at home. Unless I’m sleeping. I know I left that door open after I changed clothes.”
Her voice rang with conviction.
Pulling out my trusty fingerprint kit once more, I dusted the doorknob, then the light switch inside before flipping on the light.
Claire’s gasp said it all.
The room was in complete disarray.
Clothes hung from the dresser. The bedding had been pulled off, revealing the pale pink fitted sheet covering the mattress—a mattress which was askew, exposing the box spring. All the pillows were on the floor, scattered around like they’d been flung off the bed.
“Why would they ransack this room and not my office?” She wandered a few feet into the space, eyes fixed on the mess.
I had my theories, but I didn’t want to mention them to her. No use making her more scared by telling her some people were just sick perverts. Though I wasn’t sure that was the case. It felt too coincidental that the person connected to my homicide case would also be the victim of some perverse stalker.
Unless it wasn’t supposed to be Marie Hammond who died.
The thought hit me like a Mack truck.
My jaw worked.
Was Claire the intended target? Did the killer think it was her in the house? Who would have a motive to harm her, though?
“Have you had any dealings with anyone who seemed… off, lately?” I tried to keep the question casual. Again, not wanting to alarm her.
She turned a confused frown on me. “What do you mean?”
I lifted a shoulder, digging into the evidence kit for the digital camera. “Just someone who seemed odd. Did anyone make you think twice about what they said or did? It could be something as simple as a comment they made in line at the store or a phone call.”
Her brows twitched as she thought. “No,” she finally answered. “Not that I can remember. Do you think I know who did this?” She swept a hand out at the mess.
“Maybe. Do you ever work in your bedroom?”
“All the time. I like to sit in bed with my laptop and the TV playing. It’s cozy.”
I turned on the camera and aimed it at the bed. “Do people know you do that?”
“Some, yes. I don’t broadcast it, but people who know me have heard me talk about working in here.”
A bit of the tension eased from my shoulders. I far preferred the theory that someone was looking for information on the Hammond case and not here for Claire specifically.
“Okay.” I snapped a few more pictures of the room, then looked at her. “Was there anything in here, work-wise?”
Immediately, she shook her head. “I didn’t bring anything home tonight. And I never leave anything in here. It always goes back to the office with me in the morning. Usually, when I work up here, it’s loading pictures for a listing. Sometimes it’s a contract, but usually, I’m working on a listing.”
My gaze sharpened. “Listing photos, you say?”
She nodded.
“Where’s your camera?”
“Lynne usually takes the pictures. She brings me an SD card or a thumb drive, and I upload from that.”
“Do you have one of those for the Hammond house?”
“N—” she stopped, mid-word. The slight frown on her face opened into a surprised look. “Actually, I don’t have listing photos, but I have pre-listing photos. Remember how I told you I closed all the doors when I took pictures for Lynne? So she could stage the place?”
My heartbeat quickened. “Yes. I think I need to see those pictures.” There could be something there. Something someone didn’t want anyone else to see.
“I don’t have it, though.” Her expression turned worried. “Lynne does.”