“Yeah, but I could have believed her,” I murmur, dismissing how easily he lets me off the hook.
Boone’s lips twist like he might have more to say, but the storm door opens, and Officer Hawks gives a hearty, “All clear!” grabbing our attention and ending the tender moment.
“Nice place you got here. We cleared every room. Lots of windows. Maybe you saw a reflection of someone out by the water,” he offers with a flat smile.
“Thank you for coming,” I tell them, unable to bring myself to apologize, even though he probably thinks I overreacted.
Boone reaches around me and extends his hand, first to Officer Hawks, then to the female cop. The police chat near their cars for a brief moment before leaving. The next natural step would be to go back inside, but even with Boone with me, I’m not eager to do it.
“Are you ready to go?” Boone asks, pulling me from my thoughts about the condo.
“Go? Like to breakfast?” I’m a little surprised we’re just going to act like everything is normal.
“Yeah, lets grab what you need.” He tips his chin toward the house and waits until he’s right next to me to whisper, “No talking about any of this inside.”
“Okay.” I exaggerate the word slowly. “I just need to grab my bag and… am I riding with you?”
“Yeah,” Boone answers while ushering me onto the porch, then opening the door for me to go inside. I look back to makesure he’s coming with me, but he’s right on my heels. He gives me a small nod of reassurance.
Stepping inside is an exercise of will. I’m scared but also pissed off that I’m so leery of a place I fell in love with only a few days ago. Resolve straightens my spine. Maybe I’m feeling brave because I know Boone and the two other officers already cleared the place, or maybe it’s just because Boone is still with me, but either way, I stomp through the house, not allowing my nerves to slow me, until I realize I’m going to need to run upstairs before we leave.
I look around for a moment, avoiding the inevitable. Boone must notice, because he says, “Do you want me to grab something while you run to the bathroom?” He points to the small half-bath near the front door.
I could absolutely melt into a puddle. His observation skills are going to make me fall hard way too fast, or at the very least set a damn high standard. “My purse is upstairs, on the dresser, if you wouldn’t mind grabbing it while I freshen up.”
“Got it. Purple, right?”
“Burgandy, but yeah,” I agree, wondering if he noticed it when he was upstairs earlier.
I lock myself in the small bathroom before he makes it halfway up the stairs. There’s no way anyone could hide in here, but I still take a cautious look around to be sure. When I catch sight of myself in the mirror, I use my hands to smooth my hair again. A terrifying thought filters through my mind. How long was that person in the house? Were they there while I was in the shower and blow drying my hair? While I got dressed and put on makeup?
My stomach lurches, and I spin toward the toilet as nausea rises and warm saliva pools in my mouth. A sudden knock on the door startles me, and I regain my composure. “Just one second,”I answer weakly before turning on the water to wash my hands and buy a few more moments.
The click of the lock disengaging seems loud as I turn the knob. I muster an unaffected expression, or at least try, when I greet Boone, who is waiting with my bag in hand just outside the bathroom door.
“All good?” he questions, searching my face. I wonder if I still look a little green.
“Yup.” I reach for my bag and slip it over my body with familiarity, then I pat my rear pocket to confirm I have my phone. In all honesty, I don’t even remember putting it back in my pocket.
The short walk to Boone’s car is silent beyond my sigh of relief when we step out of the condo. Thoughts of what could have happened are still too fresh to pretend I’m not thankful to be getting out of there.
Surprising me, Boone leans past me, brushing against my shoulder to open the passenger door for me. I glance in his direction and mutter a soft, “Thank you,” before climbing in and reaching for my seatbelt as he shuts the door.
The scent of his cologne fills the interior of the car. I’m not familiar with it, but I find comfort in the warm, peppery aroma. Neither of us speak until we pass the guard shack. Thankfully, the gate opens without any hesitation. Once we’re on the open road, Boone turns to glance at me. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really, but I don’t want to go back right now, and I would love a cup of coffee,” I reply.
He nods as if he suspected as much. “You should still try to eat something.”
“Maybe,” I concede. It will depend on how my stomach feels by then. I’m not even sure coffee would agree with me at this point.
He drives toward the water, and I practice avoidance while staring out the window. Before long, he pulls into the rear lot of a small strip of storefronts about a block away from Lake Michigan. When he turns off the car, neither of us rush to get out. Words I thought I didn’t want to say slip from my lips in the quiet interior. “What did you see that made you believe me?” I can’t bring myself to look directly at him, not when I’m still worried he agreed with me just to keep things simple.
“There was something in the sink.” I catch the motion of his hand pushing down his thigh in my peripheral.
Curiosity and the thought that it could have been a glass I picked up at some point makes me ask, “What was it?”
“A knife.”
