“He scared me!” she says, and giggles. The woman actually giggles.
After pressing a kitchen towel to my face, my vision starts to clear.
I almost wish it hadn’t.
The house is a mess.
Two bodies are in the living room, a puddle of blood around them. Red spatters the kitchen island and the walls, and all I can smell is gunpowder and iron. The scream of sirens in the distance tells me one of my neighbors has called the police, so I kneel by the first guy and search through his pockets.
Monty stands beside me, resting her hand on my shoulder as she leans over. “Good idea, they might have cash.”
I tut. “I’m trying to figure out who they are, not rob them.”
Their pockets are pretty much empty—except for a folded piece of paper.
A photograph of Monty.
In it, she’s striding across the street, clearly in San Francisco. It was taken from a distance, and she’s wearing the same coat she has since she arrived, which means it’s recent.
“Wow, I look pretty.”
“Monty, these men were here for you,” I say, brandishing the paper at her. “Why would someone—” I pause. “Actually, don’t answer that question.” The sirens are getting closer, and I glance at Monty’s hand. “Is that gun legal?”
She purses her lips in thought. “And by legal, you mean …”
I snatch it off her and wipe it down with the kitchen towel, tossing it on top of one of the bodies.
Monty smiles innocently. “You’re being all illegal for me.”
“Hush up.”
“It’s romantic!”
This woman will be the death of me.
Chapter 4
Guy
“And where were you during all of this?” Winston asks. Monty is beside me on the couch, doing a great job of acting just traumatized enough to be believable. She’s holding my hand, sniffing occasionally, her head resting against my arm.
It’s some of the best acting I’ve ever seen.
“I stayed upstairs,” she says quietly. “But when I heard all the crashing, I got scared and came down … one of them had dropped their gun, so I shot him. Then the other one …” She covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes glassy, her voice breaking. “He grabbed my foot and … instinct took over. I shot him, too.”
Winston stares at her. “Point blank between the eyes.”
She sniffs. “Lucky shot.”
Winston hums but doesn’t comment further. He’s trusting my judgment here, not his own, and that makes me feel like shit. His instincts will be telling him something is completely off, and I’m making him second guess that by backing up Monty’s story. Still, there isn’t much else I can do. “What are we thinking? Home invasion?”
I nod. “More than likely. I interrupted them before they could do any real damage.”
He watches the bodies get wheeled out on gurneys. “They really picked the wrong house. Anyway, I’ll get your statements typed up. You wanna sign them when you’re back off leave?”
Monty glances at me, and I try not to tense too visibly. “I’ll come in before the new year, get it out of the way.”
“Sure thing.” He snaps his notepad closed. “A word outside?”
