“If we have any information to share with you regarding your case, we’ll get in touch immediately,” said Constable Wilson, handing Amy her business card. “If you’re having trouble dealing with this, please call Victim Services. You may feel violated, much like the victim of a physical attack. But that’s normal.”
“Thank you. I don’t think that’s necessary, but I’ll keep the service in mind.” Amy forced a smile in response to Sally Wilson’s concern, and then led the way to the front door. Constable Robertson followed on their heels.
Leslie stepped into the entryway and wrapped a protective arm around Amy’s waist.
Amy wanted the police out of her home.
She wanted to put everything in her house back to rights. “Thank you for your help. I’m grateful that you caught the guy.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. MacArthur. If we have any questions, we’ll call you.” Sally Wilson shook Amy’s hand and then followed Constable Robertson down the driveway.
Amy closed the front door. Mostly, she just wanted to forget the whole incident.
Yeah, right, she thought. Like that was going to happen.
For a full half hour after the police left, Amy succumbed to a good cry in the small bathroom off the kitchen. She hadn’t cried this hard since the night Allan was killed. She hated crying in front of people, even her best friend. Leslie understood and waited in the kitchen.
When she heard a doorbell ring, Amy wandered out of the bathroom in time to see Leslie unlock the back door and admit her neighbor. Tiffany and Dave Williams and their four children moved next door three years ago. They’d been a godsend when Allan died. Dave had done her yard work and shoveled snow, and Tiffany brought over casseroles. They’d become close friends.
“What on earth happened?” Tiffany surveyed the disarray in the kitchen and wrapped teary-eyed Amy in her arms. “The school called to inform me Sherry was crying with a tummy ache. When I drove her home, the street was crawling with police cars and cops. She’s napping on the family room couch so I snuck over here for a minute.”
“I forgot to set the damn alarm this morning. Some stoned teenager broke into my house and turned the place upside down.” Amy pulled out of her friend’s embrace to fetch more tissues.
“Oh my God. He couldn’t be from this neighborhood. What was he looking for? Electronics or something he could pawn for cash?”
“Nothing like that was taken.” Amy dabbed at her tears and then blew her nose. “The police think he was looking for money and drugs. He stole some cash I left on a table.”
“Drugs?”
Amy related the news about the drug house and followed it up with a description of the kid’s appearance. “ If you see anyone that fits his description, Tiff, call the police, okay?”
“You bet. Well, I’d better get back home.” Tiffany headed for the back door. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do?”
“We’re going to clean up the mess, but thanks for offering.” Amy smiled, hoping to reassure her neighbor that she’d be fine.
“Okay. Take care. I’m glad Leslie is here with you. And remember to set your alarm!” Tiffany sailed out the door and through the back gate heading home.
A few minutes later, Amy stood in the middle of the family room, hands on hips, and announced, “I’m not submitting a claim to my insurance company. The cost of the loss would only slightly exceed my deductible. Worst of all, I’d be obligated to admit I forgot to set the darn alarm.”
“I can’t believe it. The one time you forget to set the security system this happens,” observed Leslie.
“I know! What are the chances?” Amy threw up her hands. “I’m calling the glass shop that fixed my bedroom window last summer after Tiff’s son hit a baseball through it. Hopefully, they can send a guy over to fix the deck door this afternoon.”
Fifteen minutes later, she returned to the family room where Leslie was sorting books and neatly stacking them on the bookcases.
“They’re sending a guy over at three. Fortunately, my deck doors are pretty old or it would have taken two or three days to have the glass replaced.” Amy surveyed the mess. “I’m just stuffing anything that was ruined into the garbage, and considering this a lesson learned for neglecting to set the alarm. If there are drug houses even in a community like this, I should be more vigilant. From now on, that alarm will be activated every time I set foot outside these four walls and every night, too.” Amy noticed her friend had stopped working. “What?”
“Actually, by the time the police arrive after your alarm is triggered, you could be mugged, raped, shot dead, or almost anything. Maybe you need a more immediate deterrent.”
“Such as?” Amy turned and met her friend’s eyes. This was going to be good. Leslie was notorious for her hair-brained ideas.
“Something to meet the burglar with head on, like a loaded gun.”
“Right. Then for sure I’d be shot dead by the time the police arrive.” Amy shook her head. “I don’t know the first thing about guns. Probably shoot myself by mistake. Dumb idea, Les.”
“Well, you could learn. Take lessons.”
****
By six o’clock the deck door window was replaced, and the house had been returned to normal. Amy and Leslie sat cross-legged on the family room floor looking through her photo albums, waiting for the large vegetarian pizza they’d ordered. They reminisced about school and relived their most embarrassing high school and college antics together.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
“Delivery guy’s here.” Leslie set the album aside and hopped up. “I’m excessively tipping that driver. I’m starving.”
“After all the ice cream we ate during our work break, how can you be starving?” Amy smiled and then added, “Thanks for paying for dinner, Les.”
“No problem,” her friend called over her shoulder on the way to the front door.
Amy headed to the built-in liquor cabinet in the living room to fetch a special bottle of wine she’d been saving since Christmas. Having her best friend rescue her sanity today definitely qualified as a special occasion, and she intended to share the cherished vintage with her.
She grabbed the bottle and the opener. Before heading back to the family room, she peeked out the living room window. Between the fading light of day and the street lights, the neighborhood was clearly illuminated. For a brief moment, Amy thought she’d spotted the teenager who’d robbed her house, standing at the bus stop across from her driveway. Just then the bus pulled up blocking her view. When the vehicle rumbled on its way, no one was there.
Leslie returned with the pizza box clasped in her hands.
“Did you notice someone standing at the bus stop a minute ago?” asked Amy.
“No, I didn’t notice anybody. Mind you I was busy with the delivery guy. Why?”
“I thought I saw...never mind.”
“Thought you saw what?” Leslie’s expression warned Amy she wasn’t letting this drop.
“Not what, who. I thought I saw the teenager who broke into the house this morning.” Amy waved her hand. “I’m just letting my imagination get the better of me. Nerves, apprehension, imagination, whatever. It was a ridiculous notion.”
Twenty minutes later, they’d polished off the pizza, moaned in rapture after sharing the delicious wine, and cleaned up the mess. Amy brewed a pot of coffee while Leslie straightened up the photo albums and put them back in the cupboard under one of the bookcases.
Leslie joined her in the kitchen just as the back doorbell rang. Amy unlocked the door and Tiffany stepped inside.
“Hi, Amy. How are you doing?” her neighbor inquired.
“Fine. Leslie helped straighten the house up and the deck door has been repaired.” Amy poured each of them a mug of steaming brew.
Once they’d settled themselves around Amy’s table, her friends sipped their coffee in silence. Amy suspected they had something on their minds. Namely, her. “I know you’re worried about me. But I’m going to
be okay, you guys.”
Tiffany set her mug down on the kitchen table and reached for Amy’s hand. “We need to revisit the security issue.”
“I’ll set the alarm every time I leave and every night before I head up to bed. Every time, without fail, I promise.” Amy squeezed Tiffany’s hand. “I know you’re concerned but I’ll be fine.”
“The security system is not enough. My husband and I discussed this. You should adopt a large, mean-sounding dog to protect you and your house.” Tiffany met Amy’s eyes, expectantly.
“A dog?” Amy jerked her hand back. “What would I do with a dog?”
“He’d provide companionship and immediately alert you to anything suspicious in the neighborhood,” explained Tiffany. “At night, our dog barks to alert us if a leaf falls off a tree in the backyard. I hate to imagine what would happen if someone was prowling around out there.”
Leslie tapped her coffee mug with a hot pink-polished digit. “I think it’s a wonderful idea, Tiff.”
“It’s a terrible idea,” blurted Amy. “Leslie, do you know how much work a dog is?”
She attempted to discourage them by conjuring up a dozen excuses, but her girlfriends wouldn’t back down an inch. Finally, to appease them, she’d opened up her laptop, gone online, and printed the Humane Society’s adoption application form.
While she filled it in, she muttered, “This will prove to be a colossal waste of time. I probably won’t even go down there and check out the dogs.”
“That is where you’re dead wrong.” Leslie stepped behind Amy, massaged the tension out of her friend’s shoulders. “Tomorrow morning, we’re going to the pancake place for breakfast at ten o’clock, and then we’re driving over to the Humane Society to check out the dogs. And I won’t listen to one word of argument from you.”
“Hear, hear,” added Tiffany, glancing at her watch. She leapt off her chair. “Oh my Lord! It’s almost nine o’clock. I’ve got to get home and kiss my kids goodnight.”
“Go out the front, Tiff. The street is lit better than the back lane.”
Tiffany strode to the front door and flew down the cement steps, heading back home. Amy and Leslie waved from the living room window and watched until she disappeared from sight.
“We should call her house in a minute to ensure she made it home okay,” suggested Amy.
“There’s no boogie man out there. Today’s incident was a rarity.” Leslie clasped Amy’s hands in hers.
“You’re right. I’m still a little nervous, I guess.”
While Leslie telephoned her significant other to arrange to stay the night, Amy headed to the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher.
A few minutes later, Leslie returned from the living room. “Everything’s a go.”
“Rick didn’t mind that you decided to sleep here?”
“No way. Rick knows you’d do the same for me. Friends to the end, remember? We’ll be sitting in our rocking chairs on some seniors’ home veranda recalling this night when we’re in our eighties.” Leslie and Amy laughed together.
Amy silently thanked her friend’s live-in boyfriend for encouraging Leslie to stay with her. She still felt a little shaken up by the day’s events, and she suspected her friend saw through her brave front. Besides, after sharing the wine Leslie was in no shape to drive anywhere.
“I called Tiffany after I hung up with Rick,” added Leslie. “She made it home all right. But one of the twins is throwing up with a flu bug, and her husband is at his wits end.”
“Poor Tiff. She did mention Sherry had a tummy ache at school. Guess one of her boys has it, too.” Amy couldn’t imagine having four kids, but her friend made it look so easy. And her husband helped out constantly. She’d definitely married a keeper.
“I’ve drunk so much wine I’d be talking on the big white telephone in the bathroom with the kid.” Leslie visibly shuddered.
Amy laughed and it felt good, relieved some of the day’s tension that had settled in her shoulders and in her heart. She’d never been the victim of a break-in or any crime before, an experience she didn’t want to relive any time soon.
“Lend me some pajamas and we’ll watch TV before it’s time to turn in,” suggested Leslie.
“You’re on.” Amy doubted she would sleep a wink tonight anyway, and television sounded like a suitable distraction. They headed upstairs to change. Amy dug a short cotton nightie out of her drawer and wandered across the hallway with it in hand. “There’s a new toothbrush and paste and other toiletries in the spare room bath. I’ll make some popcorn and we can watch a movie if all else fails.”
Leslie chose a chick flick from Amy’s extensive DVD collection, and they watched the movie in silence for several minutes. Soon it became apparent to Amy that neither of their minds was on the film.
“What are you thinking about, Les?”
“Probably the same thing you are?” Her friend met her eyes. “Did you set the alarm after Tiffany left?”
“Yeah, I did. And I’ve checked it twice already. Also the back door and the deck doors and all the windows.” Amy shifted on her end of the couch, tucked her legs under herself. “I hate feeling so insecure in my own home. This is nuts. I’ve never felt unsafe here before and I hate it! Maybe I should adopt a dog.”
“I never give such things a second thought with Rick at home every night.” Leslie reached over and patted Amy’s hand. “I don’t know how you cope, living in this huge house all alone. I’d hear every sound and imagine a burglar every minute if I lived here by myself.”
“Even when Allan was alive, he travelled a lot with his job. Staying here alone has never bothered me. It’s just...home.” Amy’s eyes misted. “I refuse to consider my house an unsafe haven because of this incident.”
“You always were the brave one, prepared to tackle anything head on, no wimping out.” Leslie smiled.
“I wish I felt as strong as I sounded just now. My conviction doesn’t match my...”
The telephone rang and Amy jumped a foot.
“I’ll get it,” Amy croaked. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry. She glanced at her watch. Ten minutes after nine. “Hello?” she asked, tentatively.
“Ms. MacArthur, this is Constable Robertson. I…I just thought I’d check up on you. See how you were doing?”
His handsome face flashed across Amy’s mind, and she smiled in spite of the more horrendous memories his name also conjured up. “I’m okay. Leslie helped clean up the house and she’s staying the night so I won’t be alone. The glass company repaired the deck door.” Amy sighed, feeling certain he could hear the exhaustion in her voice, might even detect a lingering sense of apprehension. “And I set the alarm.”
“That’s good. I’m glad you’re not alone.”
A long pause followed.
“May I ask you a question?”
“Sure, Ms. MacArthur. What would you like to know?”
“Is that kid still in custody? I can’t get his hate-filled expression out of my mind. What if he comes back...”
The officer blew out his breath. “Don’t worry about him coming back.”
“Why? Is he still in jail? In rehab? I can’t help worrying.”
“I can’t discuss the case with you. Confidentiality. I’m sorry.”
“Oh. I see.” She didn’t confess she imagined spotting the guy earlier this evening standing at the bus stop. He’d probably think she’d become paranoid as a result of the incident.
“Well, I was just thinking about you...”
There was a pause on the line.
Amy wanted to ask how much thinking? But she smiled, knowing he’d thought about her. He probably hadn’t intended to admit it, and perhaps he thought about all the victims in his cases. But the fact that he cared enough to call and check up on her meant a lot.
“Well, I’ll let you go for now. Get some sleep, and hopefully by morning the situation won’t look so bleak.”
“Thank you for thinking of me. I appreciate the call.” Amy remember
ed the kindness and consideration she’d received from him this morning. He was definitely one of the good guys.
“You’re welcome.” Another pause. “Good night, Ms. MacArthur.”
“Good night, Constable Robertson.” Despite the harrowing day she’d just survived, Amy smiled as she hung up the phone.
And then she recalled nearly jumping out of her skin when the phone rang. She felt frustrated that the cop couldn’t tell her where the culprit was. Stupid confidentiality. Of course, if it was her kid, thought Amy. The law was the law, and it did serve a purpose.
Maybe they’d put him in a rehab center. She hoped so for the kid’s sake. Drugs. Break and enter. He definitely needed help. Of course, if he remained at home in his parents’ custody he’d still be attending school, be out on the street. His parents couldn’t watch him every minute of the day.
Oh, hell, would she ever feel safe in her own home again?
Chapter 3
Kevin hung up the phone and scrubbed his face with his hand, feeling like a fool for calling Amy MacArthur. With the police service stretched to its limit these days, would she believe he’d just called as a public service? Or would she guess his motives were of a personal nature? And he’d actually told her he’d been thinking about her. Which was true, but he certainly didn’t intend to share that bit of information with her.
All day, he couldn’t get the pretty blonde out of his thoughts. During the investigation Amy had mentioned widowhood and that she lived alone. She’d told Wilson her husband died a year and a half ago, but he’d noticed she was still wearing a wedding band which screamed I’m not ready for a new relationship.
Certainly, she was too young and too pretty to be a widow, he decided.
Amy had been shaking visibly, frightened and rattled, when they first arrived on the scene. Her vulnerability had tugged at his heartstrings. He hated seeing a woman hurting and afraid. But within minutes her demeanor had changed, and he’d witnessed her anger surface, her resolve take over. Amy MacArthur wouldn’t be bested by anything or anyone, he imagined. Even the destruction left behind by that strung-out punk searching for drugs or some quick funds to procure his next high.
Love To The Rescue Page 3
