I’ve asked Sam to see if his neighbors could keep it down, but he says they’re renovating and to be patient. Then it’s quiet for a day, but then right back to the buzzing and pounding the day after. I’ve taken to staying in Sam’s bedroom and wearing headphones. I know it’s got to end soon. A renovation doesn’t last forever. Right? Or maybe I’ll be back home before they’ve finished. Either way, the end is near.
I spend my days watching television. Ugh, I’m sick to death of reality television. Oh, and according to news reports, they still haven’t caught the Chicago Slasher. The plan at the hospital was a fail. No one tried to kill me—or my body double, I should say. The good news is that he hasn’t hurt anyone else since my attack. I hope it stays that way.
The fact remains, though, that I’m going nuts here all day with nothing to do. My hand feels almost back to normal. I’d love to have my jewelry supplies. I could get some work done whileI’m here and have new pieces for the case when I get back to work.
I pick up my phone to call Sam, but he doesn’t answer. I don’t want to leave him a voice mail, so I hang up. He’ll see a missed call. Next, I try to call Lauren. She’s going through a rough patch, and I haven’t been there for her. I’ve been thinking only of myself for over a week, and I’m sick of it. When she doesn’t answer, I leave her a voice mail. “Hey, sis. It’s me, your long-lost best friend. I wanted to check in and see how you were. You should come over and visit me. Or I could come to you. That’d be even better. I’m going batshit crazy here all day. Let me know if you want to go to lunch or something. Okay, toodles, babe.”
Toodles?What the hell?
“That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve got to get out of here.” See? I’m even talking to myself more than usual. Sam won’t be home for an hour or two. I can get to my place, grab my jewelry supplies, and be back before he even knows I’m gone. I hop in the shower and wash my body quickly. It’s three in the afternoon, and I’m just now showering. That’s just pathetic. I grab some leggings and a tunic that Sam grabbed from my place.
By day two here at Rancho Sam, he didn’t seem to like the idea of me wearing only his huge T-shirts all day, every day, so he went to my place and got me a bunch of clothes and underwear, my beauty products, and a couple pairs of comfy shoes. While he was there, he took out my garbage and threw away things in my fridge that went bad. “The shit was furry,” he said with a look of disgust on his face.
I giggled at his expression and kissed him. “Thanks for getting some of my things for me, Sam.” I was so happy to wear my own clothes again I nearly cried.
I brush my hair and put it up into a messy bun, then grab a sweater because it’s March now, and while it’s still chilly outside, I know spring is in the air, and a thick sweater is all I need. Ihaven’t asked about Pops’s coat, and Sam hasn’t mentioned it. I know it’s gone, and I need to accept that. Besides, I’m not sure what I’d do if I caught a glimpse of the coat after that night. I know there were cuts on it and my blood, of course. Maybe I could see if a dry cleaner could get the blood out. I could attempt to stitch the cuts myself.
Oh, who am I kidding? It’s long gone.
Taking a deep breath, I grab my phone, purse, and Sam’s keys. I search for my set of house keys to unlock the normal lock. and end up spotting them on his ring. Hm. I’ll be able to use my smart lock app for the other lock. I shiver a little bit. “Why am I nervous to go to my own house?”
Once I get to the lobby, I ask the concierge to help me get a taxi. I’m stiff and sore and moving slowly; I still need a little help. I climb slowly into the cab and give the man my address. He looks back at me to make sure I really wanted to go there. “That’s what I said,” I say with a smile. “Home, James,” I whisper to myself.
The car ride to my house is nerve-racking. Every bump and bounce in the back of the taxi hurts a little. I hold on to the door handle and brace my left hand on the seat to keep myself from sliding around. When we reach my abode, I hand over the money and step out. Just as I suspected, the start of March has brought warmer weather and has melted all of the snow. The grass back to my door is wet and sloppy, but I don’t care.
I pull my phone out and enter my code in the lock app and listen for the locks to disengage. I take a deep breath and turn the knob. “Home sweet home.” I step onto the top step, turn, and shut the door. I take my steps down slowly, watching my feet to be sure I don’t lose my footing. I step into my main room and stop dead in my tracks. My mouth falls open, and I nearly vomit. “Where’s my stuff?” I say to no one. I turn in a full circle, looking for what, I don’t know, but every cupboard, shelf, doodad, andwhatnot that once adorned my walls is gone. All of my pictures, boxes, hell, even my plain old love seat are gone.
The only thing that remains is my kitchen, thank goodness, and the built-in bookcase with the secret compartment. I step into my bathroom and see the sink, toilet, and tub are still there. The medicine cabinet with the secret cupboard is there, too. The medicine cabinet itself is empty, but when I open the secret part, I see my hidden items are still there.
I move into the bedroom next. Empty. My bed, dresser, and the rest of my clothes and shoes are gone. I’m literally speechless. “Was this all still here when Sam came to get my stuff?” I roll my eyes. Of course it was. How else would he be able to bring me anything? This is all surreal. I know I should be in full-on panic mode, but I’m freakishly calm about it.
I pull the phone out and hit Sam’s number. “Hey, babe. What’s up? Want me to bring you anything?”
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“My stuff’s gone.”
“Stuff? What stuff?”
“In my house. Everything is gone. My furniture, everything.”
“What? Wait. Where are you?”
I let my voice rise a little bit. “I’m at my house. My stuff is gone, Sam. Someone stole everything I own.” I start to panic now. “Who would come in here and take my stuff?”
“Shh, babe, it’s okay.Itook your stuff.”
I was going to rant some more, but I stop because I honestly can’t believe what I’m hearing. “What?” I screech like a damn banshee. “You got rid of my stuff? Sam? It’smystuff?”
I keep sayingstufflike it doesn’t mean anything, but my stuff isn’t just stuff to me. It’severything. “Why would you do that.” I sob a little bit.
“Babe, you aren’t going back there, so?—”
“I’m not coming back here? Why not?”
“Honey, I thought you liked?—”
