Chapter Five #2
He ushered the two of them along the sidewalk to the gate that opened into his front yard. By the time they were walking through his door, Brenda’s heart rate had reached some semblance of normalcy and Janey had stopped sobbing.
“Sit anywhere you like,” he suggested as he closed and locked the door.
Brenda settled onto the sofa and finally drew Janey back so she could see her face. “You okay, baby?”
Janey nodded, her dark hair hanging like a disheveled curtain around her face. Brenda smoothed and pushed it away. “We’re okay now,” she promised.
“You need coffee?” Ben asked. “Hot chocolate?”
Janey came to life then. “Hot chocolate,” she enthused. She slid out of her mother’s lap and hurried to the man, grabbed him by the hand and peered up at him. “You have marshmallows?”
He smiled. “I do.” He glanced at Brenda then. “Anything for you?”
She shook her head. Nothing short of a shot of whiskey was going to give her one iota of comfort just now.
When Ben had taken Janey to the kitchen, Brenda closed her eyes and fought back the images and thoughts that wanted to haunt her.
Right now, she needed to get her wits about her.
No more tears. No more moments of weakness.
The sound of Janey’s sweet little girl voice and Ben’s far deeper one made her smile. Thank God for this new neighbor.
Minutes, maybe a half hour, later—Brenda couldn’t say for sure but long enough that Janey was asking for another cup with extra marshmallows—a rap on the door snapped her to attention. She slipped into that neutral place where she didn’t have to think about all the what-ifs and whys.
She stood and headed for the door. “I’ve got it,” she called to Ben, who appeared at the cased opening between the living room and kitchen.
“We’re having seconds in here,” he told her. “Still nothing for you?”
“No thanks. Can you keep Janey in the kitchen?” She didn’t want her daughter to overhear whatever the officers had to report.
“Of course.”
Ben turned back to the kitchen, and Brenda opened the front door. Only one officer waited there. “Did you find anything?” she asked, keeping her voice lowered no matter that she wanted to shout.
“Is it all right if I come inside?”
“Oh, yes.” Brenda shook her head. “Forgive me.”
When they’d settled in the living room, her on the sofa once more and the officer in a side chair opposite her, he answered her question. “We believe the intruder started in the garage and worked his way to the house.”
The garage was at the back of her house where a narrow alley provided off-street parking for homeowners. Not all had garages, but both hers and the house next door did.
She nodded for him to go on, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself.
“Boxes and containers you have stored there were overturned and dug around in. Looks like your car was searched. Glove box contents are on the floorboard. Trunk was open.”
“Good grief, what on earth could anyone have been looking for in my car?” She didn’t leave any change or cash lying around in her car and certainly nothing else of value inside.
“Unless something is missing,” the officer explained as he took out a pad and pen, “it’s difficult to determine what he was looking for.
But we believe when he didn’t find what he was looking for in the garage, he moved on to the house.
The yard and patio area appear pretty much undisturbed other than the overturning of flowerpots.
In the house, my partner found drawers partially opened, and the books and items on shelves were moved aside, some placed on the floor.
The search in the house was fairly thorough. ”
Her jaw dropped and she shook her head. “How could I sleep through that?” And why hadn’t she noticed open drawers or anything else?
Maybe because she hadn’t turned on any lights, just poked her head through the door of her office.
As foolish as it seemed now, before the police arrived the darkness had felt like a cloak of protection preventing anyone from seeing her through the windows. Keeping her movements secret.
“If he was a professional then he knew how to look without making noise. It’s obvious in the garage that he didn’t care, but he was far more careful inside.
The drawers were only partially open, as if he wanted his efforts not to be noticeable but didn’t want to risk the sound of fully closing them. ”
“Still, I can’t believe he went all through the house and wasn’t afraid of waking me.”
“Like I said,” the officer reiterated, “looks like a professional job. Can you recall anything about him? Height? Weight? Gloves? Mask? Anything at all?”
This was so over-the-top…so surreal. Why was this happening? Brenda pushed all the troubling thoughts aside. “He was tall, a good deal taller than me.”
“So maybe close to six feet?”
She nodded. “Solid. Muscled. His hands were really strong. And yes, he was wearing gloves. Black…all black. It was like he wasn’t even there, but then I saw his eyes.
He was wearing a ski-type mask of some sort.
All I saw were his eyes. They were maybe blue or gray.
Lighter in color. It happened really fast and I was startled so I can’t be sure. ”
“That’s good,” he assured her. “Really good.” He made a few more notes.
“I guess I should look around and see if he took anything.” Surely he hadn’t been in her room with her asleep in the bed. She had a few pieces of jewelry that were fairly valuable. But most of what she owned carried only sentimental value.
“You should, yes. But—” his gaze connected fully with hers “—we don’t think this was a typical robbery.”
A frown tugged at her lips. “What do you mean?”
“There was jewelry in your bedroom. Cash in your handbag. A laptop and iPad in your office. Not to mention your cell phone. None of that was taken. Also, you have some pain medication in your medicine cabinet.”
She nodded, remembering Scott’s accident on the racquetball court last summer. “My husband fractured his ankle. They sent him home with pain meds, but he never took them.” She should have dropped them off at a disposal center already.
The officer held up a hand. “I understand. My point is there were a lot of things he could have taken for readily converting to cash but didn’t. Do you have any reason to believe someone would be looking for anything in particular in your home?”
She moved her head side to side. “No. I’m a writer, but I’m far from rich. I don’t have anything, not one thing I would call valuable for someone looking to make quick cash—except the things you already named.”
“I ask because…” He picked up his cell phone, tapped the screen then turned it toward her. “This was spray-painted on the interior of your garage door.”
WHERE IS IT?
Her breath escaped her in a rush. “I… I have no idea what that means.” She lifted her gaze to the officer’s. “I can only assume it’s about my husband.”
“Does your husband not live here with you?” he asked. “And do you have reason to believe he, or someone associated with him, may have been the intruder who came into your home tonight?”
Brenda moistened her lips. “Officer…” She looked at his name tag. “Officer Grayson, just a couple of weeks ago I buried what I believed were my husband’s remains.” At his look of confusion she went on. “Until yesterday I’ve spent the better part of a month believing he was dead.”
Grayson readied his pen above his notepad. “Let’s start at the beginning,” he suggested. “From when you first woke up and heard the intruder. When we have tonight’s ordeal down, we’ll talk about your husband.”
Brenda glanced toward the kitchen, where Ben and Janey were still happily ensconced around the island. What in the world was happening to their lives?
What had Scott gotten them into?