“Well, my circuit box was off when I got home and the house was dark. Axel noticed the lights were out and came downto help. When we went inside and headed for the circuit box in the garage, we heard the back garage door slam like someone had left in a hurry when they saw our flashlight. It looks like someone jimmied the door.”
“Anything missing?”
Jake shrugged. “No idea. Haven’t had a chance to look around.”
Nodding, Wyatt walked into the garage, went straight to the back garage door and inspected the scratched-up lock. “That’s what it looks like to me, as well.”
He pulled out a flashlight of his own and shone the light around the area and up and down the door. About a foot from the bottom of the door, there was what looked like a drip of purple paint. “What’s this?”
Jake leaned closer and shrugged. “Don’t know. Looks like purple paint but I don’t think I have any. Purple’s not really my shade.”
“I’m going to have the crime lab out to see if there are any fingerprints and to get a sample of the purple drip.”
“Thanks, Wyatt.”
“Sure thing.” He walked back out to his car and made a call on the radio. When he returned, he said, “The tech is on her way. Once she gets here, it shouldn’t take too long to get what we need and then we’ll be out of your hair.”
“No worries. Take your time. Thank you for taking it seriously. Axel and I wondered if it’s just kids doing stupid kid things.”
Wyatt made a sound of agreement. “That’s a possibility, of course. But best to check it out anyway.”
Jake nodded.
Axel got a text from his wife, Lucy, and said he had to go. “Call me if you need anything, Jake?”
“Thanks, Axel.”
The crime scene tech arrived and was introduced as Becky Jamison. She smiled briefly and got right to work. Wyatt showed her the area by the back door and the splotch of what looked like purple paint. He also told her to test the gate in the back fence that separated Jake’s yard from the green space behind his home.
Jake liked not having any other houses behind him and wondered if that was why he’d bought this place. For privacy. Then he wondered,Did I buy this place or do I rent it?
“Sheriff,” Jake asked. “Maybe you don’t even know the answer, but do I own this property or do I rent it?”
Wyatt narrowed his eyes for a second and then lifted his head. “You rent it.”
“Who owns it?” Jake asked.
“Marvin Delancy. It used to be his parents’ house, Abe and Sheila Delancy, before they moved to a nursing home out of state to be closer to Sheila’s sister.”
Jake gave him a wan smile. “Guess I know who to send my rent payment to then. Thanks.”
“Sure thing.” Wyatt’s expression seemed dark.
“What are you thinking?”
Wyatt shook his head as if he wasn’t going to answer, then said, “I was just thinking that if you were in an altercation before you lost your memory, maybe someone came back to finish the job.”
Jake gasped. But deep down inside, his gut roiled. That was an idea that spent a lot of time taking up space in his head.
“Don’t worry,” Wyatt said. “I have to consider everything, but that isn’t what I think happened here.”
“What do you think?”
“I think some kids broke in looking for something to steal and sell for cash, and you happened to come home at an inconvenient time for their plans.”
“Why did they turn off the power at the circuit box?”
“Who says they did? Maybe it popped for its own reason. That’s just one theory.”
