“Ma’am, where were you between the hours of five a.m and eight a.m. this morning?” The cop’s question took me off guard.
“Excuse me?”
He cocked his head. “I’m Detective Jackson Baker.”
“Okay, are you insinuating that I had something to do with….well, I don’t actually know what’s going on?”
“You didn’t answer the question,” the detective took out a notebook and made a few markings.
“Detective, this is my girlfriend,” Kelton stated from the bed.
I held up a finger, giving pure attitude because I was not a fan of this cop making it seem like I’d done something wrong.
“I’m his ex-girlfriend,” I said. “And I was alone in my bedroom during those hours, before taking a jog in the park.”
The detective chuckled. “Anybody that can corroborate that story?”
“Silver’s not really the type to cut the breaks on a car…”
I folded my arms over my chest, barely registering what Kelton had said before it sank in. “Wait what?”
“Yes, the breaks on Mr. Kline’s vehicle were tampered with. I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name…did you say it was Silver?”
“I didn’t give my name, I was too busy being accused by the police,” I frowned.
The cop shrugged it off. He was a real peach. I could tell whoever he was married to, he got on their nerves because it’d only been a brief moment and I hated him.
He shrugged. “Habit of the job.”
“Sir, what is the point you are trying to make?”
“I called you earlier today?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
He tapped his pencil before pointing it at me. “I’m the detective who got assigned to the break in at your apartment.”
“Did you find out who did it?”
“No,” he shrugged. “But we did pick up a few partial prints from that scene. There was nothing to compare them too.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
“Until?”
“Until what?”
“Ms. Crane…we found some of those same partials on the break lines of his vehicle. They’re a match…”
A feeling of dizziness came over me and I started to sway. Before I knew it, Kelton’s strong arms were catching me. His scent surrounded me clouding my judgement.
“I got you,” he whispered into my ear before helping me into a chair.
“Who do you think could be behind all of this?” I peeked up at the detective.
“I’m not sure,” he shook his head. “A partial print doesn’t really help if you don’t have anything to compare it too.”
Taking a deep breath, I watched as the detective fiddled in his coat pocket. A white card appeared and he handed it to me. “If you can think of anything, call me.”
