Ramsey shrugged. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
“You don’t?”
“Maybe her motive wasn’t theft. Maybe it was attention. Now she’s been deprived of that. Public attention, at least. If she wanted to embarrass her family, that hasn’t happened. If I’m wrong, there won’t be another incident. If I’m right, she’ll up the ante. Just something to consider.”
Sullivan kept his hands around the warm mug and regarded her over the rim as he raised it to his mouth. “I bet no one’s ever accused you of being a Pollyanna.”
She grinned cheekily and let that serve as her answer.
“You’ve probably seen people steal for all sorts of reasons.”
“Sure. Need. Thrill. Drugs, which is a need for some. Attention. Boredom. Double dog dares. Cash. I don’t ask why any more, but I think about it sometimes. Like with Janet Holloway. She’s curious, but I don’t know if she was lucky.”
Sullivan took another sip of cider. His eyes went to Ramsey’s security panel beside the door. “Do you always set your alarm when you’re home?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “I don’t have one. I figured people just set their system before bed or when they leave home.”
“Maybe. I only know what I do.”
“Was the alarm here when you moved in?”
Ramsey considered lying and thought better of it. “I had it installed.”
“Single woman. New community. Long hours at work. Makes sense.”
“I am so gratified that you approve.”
Sullivan’s smirked. “Yeah. I could tell.” He finished the cider and set the mug on a coaster on the side table. “You’re cautious too. You looked out the window before opening the door.”
“I’m not sure these are casual observations,” she said. “Are you going somewhere with this?”
“You know.”
She sighed. “You still think I’m running. I told you I wasn’t.”
“And I told you that I didn’t believe it.”
“Then we’re at an impasse.”
“Not quite. I’ve revised my thinking a bit.”
“Oh?”
“I think you’ve stopped running. I think you’re hiding.”
Ramsey said nothing, simply stared at him.
“So that’s how it is,” he said.
“Yes. That’s how it is.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust anybody, Sullivan. It’s not personal.”
“You slept with me. It feels personal.”
