by Harper Lin
I put Karli out of my head. It had to be someone. Someone unexpected. Maybe the last person I expected.
I turned my head and looked at Matt in the darkness. Could he be trying to kill me? No, that was ridiculous. Why would Matt want to kill me? Unless he wanted to break up with me and couldn’t figure out how. So he thought he’d just kill me instead? Get a grip, Fran.
I slipped out of bed. Latte raised his head and looked at me closely in case I was going downstairs to feed him.
“I’m just going to the bathroom, buddy.”
He laid his head back down on the bed, but he followed me with his eyes. I padded across the bedroom and into the bathroom. While I was there, I got a drink of water and looked at myself in the mirror, trying to clear my head. There was no way Matt was trying to kill me, especially not in such convoluted ways. Matt was a professional engineer. He was smart enough to actually kill me if he wanted to. At that bizarre thought, I turned off the bathroom light and headed back to bed.
I crawled in and forced myself to close my eyes. It didn’t work. They popped right back open. I stared at the ceiling for a while. It still had the remnants of the glow-in-the-dark stars my mom and I had stuck to it when I was a kid. My mom had wanted to put them in the shapes of constellations and started off that way, but I didn’t have the patience to wait for her to carefully align them and ended up sticking them wherever I could reach, which ended up being mostly in a six-inch blob. My mom, my wonderful mom, had looked momentarily dismayed, but then she smiled and gave me a hug, telling me my work was beautiful. I missed her so much.
I rolled over and shut my eyes again. This time, instead of thinking about who might be trying to kill me, I thought about my mom. We’d had our ups and downs like all mothers and daughters, but what I wouldn’t give for one more day with her. We’d had so many good times in this house and at the café while I was growing up. Her bedroom had been right across the hall, my grandparents’ at the bottom of the stairs. It was a good way to grow up. The best way, as far as I was concerned.
My eyes popped open. Was that a squeak? It sounded like the creak of the stairs. I rolled over and put my hand on Latte. Had he made a sound? He did that sometimes, when he was dreaming. Quiet little woofs or squeaks. His legs would twitch just a little as he dreamt of running on the beach or chasing squirrels. He wasn’t moving now, but maybe my turning over had jostled him out of his dream.
I closed my eyes again. It was just Latte. He made little noises all the time. My body had just relaxed when I startled awake again.
This time there was no mistaking it.
Someone was coming up the stairs.
Chapter 23
“Matt,” I hissed. “Matt, wake up.” I swatted at him to try to awaken him. He grunted and rolled over.
I poked Latte, hoping he would wake up and notice the intruder. He wiggled closer to Matt and ignored me.
The stairs creaked again. I took a deep, shaky breath and tried to think of what to do. I could get up and confront them, but they could be armed. Or I could stay put and wait for them to come in the bedroom. Neither option seemed good.
I listened for another creak. This house was an older one, so most of the stairs had some sort of squeak or groan, but I knew from youthful experience that the second from the top was the worst. On the few occasions that teenage me had snuck into the house late at night, I’d always skipped that one. In fact, I’d had a whole system for creeping up the stairs as noiselessly as possible. It was usually wasted on me watching TV later than I was supposed to or, worse, staying up late studying, but I’d had a system. A system that whoever was walking up the stairs now had no idea about, thank goodness.
I nudged Latte again, but this time I whispered the magic word. “Treat!” Latte immediately lifted his head and looked at me. “Treat!” I whispered again, this time pointing at the door.
Latte jumped up and leapt off the bed, heading for the door at a full gallop. As soon as he got through the door, he started barking frantically at whoever was on the steps. I suddenly worried that I’d sent him into danger.
Fortunately, almost immediately, I heard feet pounding down the creaky stairs, accompanied by Latte’s paws clattering down behind them. The front door banged against the wall behind it, and Latte’s barks grew more distant.
I crept out of bed and poked my head out the door to look down the stairs. The stairs were empty, and the door was wide open. Latte was framed in it, silhouetted by the dim moonlight. He was still barking into the night.
I went back across the room and grabbed my phone from where it was charging on the nightstand. With shaking hands, I dialed 911.
Matt sat up just as the 911 operator answered. “What’s going on?”
My response was to the operator. “Hi, I’d like to report a break-in.”
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, the street was filled with flashing red and blue lights. My house was filled with police officers.
Matt was on the couch, wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants he’d hastily thrown on when he finally woke up enough to process what was going on. Latte was curled up beside him, back asleep after his stint as a guard dog. He’d used up a lot of energy barking furiously at every single police officer who had come through the door. Except for Mike. Latte liked Mike.
I was manning the espresso machine in the kitchen, using my plentiful mug collection to make cups of coffee for all the officers who’d been roused out of sleep to come search my house for signs of the intruder.
Mike paced around, barking orders at the officers, not all of whom were even Cape Bay police. I’d spotted at least one state police uniform and a couple of uniforms from the sheriff’s office. It seemed like a little bit of overkill, even to me, but at least Mike had stopped short of calling in the National Guard.
“Fran, we’re ready for you!” Mike shouted from the living room.
“Just a second! I have two more drinks to make.”
“Fran!” He had a warning tone in his voice, but I didn’t care.
“Mike!” I replied in the same tone.
I didn’t know what had gotten into me. While the earlier threats had scared me into stillness, leaving me curled up on the couch in terror for parts of two days, someone actually breaking in had lit a fire under me, and I was dealing with it in the best way I knew how—by making coffee. And I wasn’t going to stop until every last officer had gotten a cup.
I finished the cup I was making and decorated it with a rosetta. I would have liked to do something more elaborate, but I felt like it wasn’t the time. I put the mug on the table and called over to the officer brushing the back door for fingerprints to let him know his coffee was ready. He waved a hand in thanks and went back to his careful work.
“One more!” I called to Mike before he could call me again.
I smiled at the officer who was waiting. “Latte okay?”
“I drink gas station coffee ninety percent of the time,” she said with a smile. “I can stomach whatever you give me.”
“Well, hopefully, this is a little better than gas station quality.” I pulled her shot of espresso and then carefully poured the milk in. As I handed her cup over, I leaned in. “By the way, your bun is falling out.”
Her hand flew to where a chunk of her hair had slipped out of its elastic and was hanging down past her uniform collar. “Oh, gosh, thank you!”
“Bathroom’s over there.” I pointed through the kitchen to the powder room. She put her coffee down on the counter and took off that way.
I wiped my hands on a towel and went out into the living room, plopping myself down on the couch next to Matt. “Okay, I’m ready,” I said, smiling at Mike. He’d sat down in his usual chair with his notebook resting on the makeshift table created by his ankle crossed over his opposite knee.
He and Matt exchanged a look.
“Okay, Fran, can you tell me what happened?” he asked. His eyes were puffy with sleep. I had a feeling that he could fall back asleep in a heartbeat, despite the A
mericano I’d greeted him at the door with.
I quickly told him about the noise on the stairs, me trying to wake Matt and Latte up, and how I’d finally gotten Latte to chase the intruder out of the house.
“Matt, does that line up with what you observed?”
“Uhh—” Matt looked around uncomfortably. “I slept through the whole thing.”
Mike’s smirk told me he already knew that and was enjoying the opportunity to mess with Matt. Professional officer of the law he might have been, but he still wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to give his buddy grief.
“I want you to think back. Did you hear anything before the creak on the stairs? The door maybe? Any movement downstairs?”
I thought back. “No. I was trying to go to sleep, so I may have already drifted off.”
Mike nodded and jotted down some notes. “And you, Matt?”
“Not a thing. I was asleep.”
“Did either of you lock the door before you went upstairs?”
“Of course!” I said. Then I stopped. It had been locked all day—I knew because I’d checked both the front and back doors several times. But had I checked it before bed? I wasn’t sure. “Actually, I don’t think I did.”
“Matt?”
“Well, I was awake for that!” he said proudly. “But I have no idea. I probably locked it, but I’m not really sure.”
Cape Bay was a small enough town that a lot of people still had the habit of leaving their doors unlocked and their car keys in the ignition. My years living in New York City had thoroughly broken me of that habit, but I still caught Matt forgetting from time to time.
“Keep a key under the doormat?”
“No,” I said firmly.
Mike looked mildly surprised. Like I said, most Cape Bayers didn’t place a high priority on securing their property.
“I keep an extra at the café.”
“But how will you get into the café if your keys are locked inside the house?” Matt asked.
“Sammy.” We really needed to have another talk about how to properly secure our homes.
Mike turned around in his chair. “Hey, Molloy!”
A crime scene tech crouching at the foot of the stairs looked up with a pair of tweezers in his hand. I caught a glint of what looked like dog hair in it.
“Make sure your people check all the points of entry for signs of force. And check the locks for fingerprints.”
“Of course, Detective.” Molloy dropped the hair into a bag and plucked another one from the carpet. I really needed to vacuum more.
“I’ll send someone to check the café, just in case. You have an alarm, right?”
I confirmed that I did.
He spoke into his police radio. “Hey, Leary, if you’re not busy, could you roll by Antonia’s and check the front and back doors?”
The voice of Sammy’s boyfriend crackled through. “Sure thing, Detective.”
Mike looked back at me. “I doubt they gained access using the key at the café. That would take a lot of planning, which doesn’t seem like this guy’s strong suit. And the alarm would have gone off. But we’ll make sure.”
The front door swung open as another cop made his way in. Latte, who hadn’t moved since I’d come out of the kitchen, jumped up and started barking ferociously. The cop put his hands up and started backing out the way he came.
Mike chuckled. “Well, if I had any doubts that this guy could scare off a burglar, they’re gone now.”
“Sit, Latte!” I commanded.
He climbed across Matt and stood on my lap.
“Little protector you got there.” Mike chuckled.
“At least somebody has my back,” I said, looking pointedly at Matt. His eyes got big, and I patted his leg. “Just teasing.”
“You guys aren’t going to let this go, are you?” Matt asked.
“Nope,” Mike and I said together.
“Detective?” The cop who Latte had tried to scare off was still standing at the doorway.
“Come on in,” Mike said. “The dog’s mostly harmless.”
As soon as the cop put one foot across the threshold, Latte’s barking started up again.
“Maybe you’d better come to me, sir?”
Mike chuckled and stood up. He stepped towards me. I expected Latte’s barking to erupt again, but I guess he really did like Mike because he just stood there. Mike reached out and scratched Latte’s head. “Good boy.” Latte licked his hand. “I don’t know what that dog has against you, Simons.” Mike laughed as he walked towards the door. Over his shoulder, he told me and Matt that he’d be back.
“I’m sorry I didn’t wake up,” Matt said, for possibly the hundredth time since he’d awoken to me on the phone with the police.
“It’s okay.” I patted him on the leg again. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
“What matters is that I almost let us get murdered because I didn’t wake up when you needed me.”
“It’s fine, Matty. We’re fine.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started tapping.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m ordering you an alarm system.”
“I don’t need an alarm system.”
“Apparently, you do,” he retorted.
I sighed and let him keep tapping. If it would make him feel better to get me an alarm system, I’d let him.
Mike came back after a few minutes and sat back down in his chair. He looked from Matt to me. “So.”
“So?” It was only one syllable, but I didn’t like the sound of it.
“I’m not going to sugarcoat this. This break-in concerns me. Assuming it’s the same perpetrator, I don’t like this kind of escalation in behavior. Until now, the attacks have been passive—traps set for you to fall into. Coming into your home—while you’re sleeping, no less—is much more aggressive behavior. What also concerns me is the time frame we’re seeing. In, let’s say, a stalking case, you’d expect to see escalation like this over the course of months or even years. This has been less than a week. It worries the hell out of me. So.”
That same deep-seated fear I’d felt clench at my stomach after Ephy’s death grabbed onto me again. “So?” I prompted, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what was coming next.
“Until now, I was hopeful that the café was more of a target than you specifically.”
My mind shot to Dean’s bitterness and the way he’d suggested it was good that the café was shut down.
“But the perpetrator actually coming into your home changes the equation. Without a doubt, you are the target.” He stopped and took a deep breath, making eye contact with me and then Matt in turn. I actually thought he even made eye contact with Latte, but that must have been my imagination.
“Effective immediately, I’m stationing officers at your front and back doors until we have this case solved.”
“What?”
He held up a hand to stop me. “I told you to stay home before, but I want to reiterate now that you are not to leave this house. I don’t want you to so much as step foot outside the door.”
“What about Latte?”
“My officers will supervise him going outside.”
“That’s ridiculous! You’re putting police officers in charge of my dog’s potty breaks?” This time, my fear wasn’t making me cower on the couch. It was making me mad.
“I’m putting police officers in charge of your safety, and right now that means keeping you inside no matter what,” Mike said sternly.
“I need groceries. I have nothing in the house.”
“Matt can buy you groceries.”
I fumed silently while I tried to think of another good excuse for me to go out. “What about the café?”
“It’s staying closed for now.”
“I have a lot of food that will go bad if we don’t open.”
“Leary can take Sammy over to clear out anything perishable. She can either take it home for herself
or bring it to you.”
“What about—”
Mike put his hand up. “That’s enough. There are no exceptions.”
“You can’t do this. You can’t unilaterally put me on house arrest!” I knew arguing wasn’t going to do any good, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“No, I can’t, but I’m asking you to do what I say for your own protection.”
I inhaled to argue some more, but Matt put his hand on my leg to stop me. “Franny. He’s right. You know he’s right. It’s not safe. You’re staying at home.”
I started to snap at him that he couldn’t tell me what to do, but the tender look in his eyes sapped some of my frustration. I sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll stay at home.”
“Thank you,” Mike said. “And I wanted to tell you, we finally tracked down Ephy’s relative. She’s only got an aunt in Maine, and they’re not close. Ephy’s grandmother had been the one to raise her, and she’d passed away last year.”
“Poor thing,” I said, sniffling.
Mike nodded grimly. “So it’s up to the aunt whether she’ll hold a funeral, but likely not. She didn’t sound like she knew Ephy well.”
I put my hands over my face. That poor young woman. I didn’t know what happened to her parents, and with her grandma gone, she had been all alone. Now her own life was gone. And there was nothing I could do about it.
“Do you have any other questions before I go and let you get back to sleep?”
I glanced around, surprised to see that most of the officers who’d been swarming my house had disappeared.
“Actually, Mike, there is. While she was at home today—”
I snapped my head toward Matt as I realized what he was about to say. Mercifully, he stopped talking. Unfortunately, Mike had caught our little exchange.
“What?”
“It’s nothing. It’s not important,” I said.
Mike obviously didn’t believe me. He looked at Matt.
I sighed. I knew he’d never let it go. “Go ahead.”
