by Mia Sheridan
“My . . . my father was in my apartment tonight.” She shook her head. “I mean, I thought it was my father, but it couldn’t have been because my father’s dead. So it . . . had to be someone else.”
Reed’s brow dipped. “Did you see this person? His face, I mean?”
“Just his profile. He walked past the door of the room I was in.”
“And that’s how you thought you recognized him? From his walk?”
“I . . . guess, yes. I just . . . it was him.” Her voice broke and she cleared her throat. “I mean, his walk, the set of his chin . . .” Liza wrapped her arms around her body, hugging herself. God, she was cold. So cold.
“Okay. But it couldn’t have been, because your father’s no longer alive.”
She met his eyes. “Right. No. It couldn’t have been, but it . . . scared me.”
“Of course it scared you. Someone broke into your apartment.”
“It appears as though whoever it was, used a window in the office to enter the residence,” Officer Garrity said, looking up momentarily from his paperwork.
Reed nodded at him and looked back at Liza. “Do you remember leaving that window open?”
She sighed. “I suppose I could have. I often open it when I work from home. I just can’t remember.” She rubbed at her temple. “Things have been . . . I’ve been . . . stressed I suppose. What happened at work and just . . . personally.”
Reed pressed his lips together for a moment, watching her. “Okay. It’s understandable. So you saw him, hid, and then heard him leaving through the front door?”
Liza nodded. “I hid in the closet. He was looking straight ahead toward my bedroom, so he didn’t notice me.” She paused, a shiver running through her at the realization that if she hadn’t had trouble sleeping, hadn’t gotten up when she did and gone to the kitchen and then the guest room, she would have been in bed asleep. Right where he’d left the rose. She swallowed, hugging herself tighter. “After a few minutes I heard the front door unlock, open, and then close again. I heard his footsteps moving away outside. I came out of the closet a few minutes after that and engaged the lock again.” She took a big breath. “When I went to my bedroom to grab my phone and dial 911, I saw a single white rose on my pillow.”
“Does that have any significance to you? That particular flower?”
Liza shook her head.
“All right. I’m going to go take a quick look in your bedroom. There’ll be a criminalist here shortly to dust for prints.”
Liza nodded. “Thank you, Reed.”
His eyes lingered on her a moment before he gave her a slight smile meant to be comforting, and then left the room.
Her cell phone rang and she startled slightly, grabbing it off the table and connecting the call. Chad.
“Hey, sorry to call so late, but I’m doing a bit of work and I had a question—”
“Hi, Chad,” she said, turning her body slightly so she wasn’t looking directly at Officer Garrity as she took the call. “I’ll need to call you back.”
“Okay. Are you all right? You sound strange.”
She cleared her throat. “I’m okay. The police are here. A man broke into my apartment—”
“What the hell?”
“Chad, I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me. Listen, I really have to go. But since I have you on the line, will you let everyone at the hospital know I won’t be in tomorrow? I . . . I think I need a day off.”
“Of course you do. Jesus, Liza. Listen, I’m coming over. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“No, Chad, really—”
“Ms. Nolan?” The other officer named Foster, stepped into the room and she caught his eye, gesturing that she’d just be a second.
“Chad, I really have to go. Don’t come over. Everything’s okay. Thank you for passing along the message at work.” Liza hung up, placing her phone back on the table.
“Sorry about that,” she said to Officer Foster.
“No problem, ma’am. I completed the search of your apartment. There doesn’t seem to be another possibility as far as how the suspect entered other than that office window. I just need you to check through the rooms, make sure nothing is missing.”
Liza stood on legs that still felt like jelly. The adrenalin was draining from her body, leaving her weak and sort of spacey.
Reed came back into the room, his eyes doing a quick sweep of her as she walked toward him.
“Ms. Nolan’s going to do a walk-through and make sure nothing is missing,” Officer Foster said.
“I’ll go with her,” Reed said, coming up beside her. And somehow just his presence, the warmth of his body next to hers was a comfort and a strength. “Are you okay? Do you need some water?”
She pulled herself straight, taking in a big breath and letting it move through her body before she spoke. “No. I’m all right.”
They walked through the rooms of her apartment and Liza did a visual sweep of each space but didn’t see anything out of place. Her space looked completely untouched, and yet it felt utterly different to her. It felt defiled, something hanging in the air that made her want to escape the place that had always been a sanctuary. Her home. The place she’d filled with the basic things she’d never had growing up—warm, clean blankets and cabinets full of food—and even things that simply made her happy like artwork and books, small treasures that didn’t cost a lot but spoke to her heart. And now? Now he’d been there and it would never feel the same again.
No, not him. Not him. It couldn’t be him. But someone.
A knock on the door startled her from her dark thoughts. “That’ll be the criminalist,” Reed said, heading for the door. She waited in the living room with the other officers and a minute later, Reed came in with a young woman wearing black cargo pants and a blue collared shirt with the CPD logo on it, holding a large, black case.
“This is Maria Vasquez. She’s going to bag the evidence in your room and dust for prints there, on the front door, and in your office where he might have touched something else that we can match for a print.”
Liza bobbed her head. She could only imagine this process was going to take a while, and she was so incredibly exhausted. She was honestly worried she might fall over right there. Be careful what you wish for, she thought as she remembered her desperate attempt at chasing sleep earlier that night. “I . . . think I’m going to go to a hotel. Can I just pack a couple of things?”
Reed frowned, started to say something, seemed to think better of it and nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. I’ll drive you.” He looked at the criminalist. “Will you take her to her room and help her grab the things she needs, Maria?”
“Absolutely,” the woman said with a kind smile.
Liza was about to tell her that wasn’t necessary, but, truthfully, she preferred not to be alone in her bedroom at the moment. So she nodded, and followed the woman from the room, her steps shaky, the fear in her body draining, but leaving behind an empty void.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Reed watched Liza disappear into her room with Maria. He turned and let out a gust of breath. This was the last place he’d expected to be tonight, and under circumstances he was still attempting to understand.
“We’ll stay while Maria works,” Foster said. “And make sure the place is locked up when we leave.”
“Thanks—”
A knock sounded at the door. Reed turned, wondering if they’d sent another criminalist to help make things quicker. But when he pulled Liza’s door open, Chad Headley was standing there, his clothes damp, hair wet and pushed back as if he’d just run across town through the rain. He looked surprised to see Reed.
“Officer Davies.”
Reed ignored the incorrect title. For some reason, he got the feeling it had been purposeful, meant to lower him somehow. Smug asshole. “Dr. Headley,” he said, standing back so the man could enter.
“I talked to Liza. It sounded like she needed me. Is she okay?”
A ripple of something Reed d
idn’t want to name, and certainly didn’t have a right to, moved down his spine. “She will be. She’s shaken up, but okay.”
“Do you have any idea who the intruder was?”
“No. Liza initially thought it looked like her father, but that’s not possible as he’s deceased. Can you think of an older man—maybe someone you work with—who would have any reason to break into Dr. Nolan’s residence?”
“No. No idea.” But the man looked troubled suddenly.
“Chad? What are you doing here?” Liza stood in the hall, a travel bag in her hand as she looked at them.
Headley rushed to where she stood, taking her upper arms in his grasp. “I was so worried.”
“I told you I was fine. Chad, really, you should go.”
Reed moved toward where they stood, holding out his hand for Liza’s bag, but she gave a small shake of her head. “I still need some stuff from the bathroom.”
“Where are you going?” Headley asked, a note of accusation to his tone.
Liza had obviously heard it too because she paused, her eyes narrowing. “I’m going to a hotel. Ree . . . Detective Davies is going to drive me there.”
Headley shot Reed a quick look. “I can drive you there. Even better, you can stay with me. Why stay at a hotel when you have a friend, Liza?”
“Thank you, Chad, but no. Please. You should go.” Liza looked back toward her bedroom. “Maria is going to help me gather a few more things.” She looked at Reed. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.
Headley opened his mouth to speak but Garrity interrupted them as he walked out into the hall. “Ms. Nolan, before you leave, I’ll just need a few more pieces of information from you for the report.”
“Okay. I’ll get my things and then I’ll be right with you.” She glanced at Reed. “I’ll be ready to go after that.” She looked at Dr. Headley. “Thank you for coming, Chad. And for passing along my message at work.”
Liza walked back toward her bedroom and Chad Headley turned fully to Reed. He offered Reed a tense smile, but there was a muscle twitching in his jaw and hostility in his gaze as he sized up Reed. He’s angry. What was this? Some sort of pissing match?
“May I speak to you in private, Detective?”
Great, just what he wanted. “Sure.” He turned and walked to the alcove outside Liza’s office, stopping before they entered the room that needed to be dusted for fingerprints. He wondered if Headley’s fingerprints were here. He was obviously familiar with where Liza lived.
Back away, Davies, he told himself.
Headley looked over his shoulder and then back at Reed. He leaned in closer. “Listen, I feel obligated to mention something to you about Liza.”
Reed kept his expression neutral, but he was suddenly on guard. He knew instinctively he wasn’t going to like what this man said.
Headley looked behind him quickly again. “I wouldn’t say anything except . . . well, you mentioned she thought it was her father who she saw in her apartment tonight and . . .” He let out a sigh. “Liza has a history of conjuring dead people. She speaks to her sister. Pretends she’s alive. Has entire conversations with her. A sister who died fifteen years ago.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m just wondering if you’re sure there was really anyone in her apartment tonight.”
There was the sound of movement directly around the corner of the vestibule, and then Liza stepped into the arched doorway, her eyes wide with what looked to Reed like . . . betrayal. Her gaze went directly to Headley. “How could you?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“Liza.” He moved toward her, reached out his arm, but she stepped backward, away from him.
“I trusted you,” she said so quietly Reed almost didn’t hear the words. Shit. Shit. Shit. His head was spinning. What was this?
Headley reached for her again, but she held her hand up and he halted. “Don’t,” she said. She looked at Reed. “I’m ready.”
Headley blew out a breath and started to say something to her, but Reed spoke before he could. “I think it’s best if you leave her alone for tonight, Doctor.”
For a minute it looked like the man was about to argue as he glanced between Reed and Liza, but then his shoulders slumped and he nodded. “You’ll make sure she’s set up in a safe hotel room?”
“I promise.”
He looked at Liza. “Call me if you need anything.”
She looked away and with a sigh, Headley turned and left her apartment.
“Ready?” he asked Liza and when she nodded, he guided her into the hall, moving slowly so Headley had plenty of time to get to his vehicle and drive away before they emerged from Liza’s building. They walked to Reed’s SUV, parked right out front. She looked pale, slightly shell-shocked, and her hands trembled in her lap. He left her to her thoughts, going over his own questions in his head.
Liza has a history of conjuring dead people. She speaks to her sister. Pretends she’s alive. Has entire conversations with her. A sister who died fifteen years ago.
Reed didn’t know what to think.
There was no way she’d imagined her father tonight . . . was there? He glanced over at her, body held rigid, hair falling loose of her ponytail, tendrils framing her face. She was still wearing the leggings and sweatshirt she must have gone to bed in. She looked very young and very scared.
Liza. Who are you? What happened to you?
“I’m not crazy,” she whispered, her eyes darting in his direction, though her head stayed facing forward.
Reed let out a breath. “Liza, you don’t have to tell me about it, except if it plays a part in what happened tonight.”
She shook her head, looked down at her hands twisting in her lap. “I know my sister’s dead. I know that, Reed. I’m not deluded.” She did turn her head toward him then, the look in her eyes so incredibly bleak. Oh, Liza. Fuck. She looked miserable. Ashamed. “I . . . we . . . had a difficult childhood. My sister . . . she . . . died when I was thirteen. I blamed myself. Sometimes I still do.” She looked back out the front windshield, the words coming hard. If she’d said them before in some form or another, it had been very rare, Reed could tell. This wasn’t a practiced story, or even one she seemed to know how to tell. She was picking and choosing her words, leaving things out, he was sure. And that was okay. Everything inside him was still, listening, absorbing. “Anyway, I . . . talk to her sometimes.” She shook her head. “When I’m stressed or unsure. Verbalizing my thoughts through her . . . helps me . . . I don’t know . . . clarify things.” She laughed softly, but it ended in a wince. “She was the only good thing in my life growing up, the person I both protected and turned to, and I suppose I still do that now. Even though she’s . . . gone. I can’t imagine how it sounds to you but . . . I’m not crazy.”
The rain outside started to fall again, splashing against the windshield, and Reed turned on the wipers. For a few minutes there was only the soft sound of the rain and the calming swoosh of the wiper blades. Reed took a moment to think about what she’d said, as the sadness of her confession trickled through him. All the things he knew about Liza Nolan swam together in his mind as he attempted to put together a fuller picture of the woman. A doctor, committed to helping those who had experienced trauma. A woman who’d experienced a difficult, perhaps even traumatic, childhood herself. A woman who was afraid of the dark. A woman who had sexual hang-ups she was attempting to work through by picking up random men in bars.
“I suppose you think I have no business treating patients,” she said. She’d tried to infuse some humor into her tone, but it fell flat.
“I don’t think that.” He looked over at her, took in the outline of her profile, the reflection of the rain and the lights outside the window causing patterns to swirl and dance across her cheek. “You don’t have to be perfect to be good at your job. Maybe it’s better that you’re not.”
She blinked over at him and he swore he saw a spark of something that looked a whole hell of a lot like hope in he
r eyes. It sent a surge of protectiveness through him. Purpose. “I’m far from perfect.”
He offered her a small smile. “I’d imagine it helps you relate to your patients, Liza. You know, there’s a reason so many counselors at drug rehab facilities are former addicts themselves. Who can help someone better than a person who’s walked in their shoes? Who’s more trustworthy to a person in pain? Someone who’s never felt it, or someone who’s been there, and crossed the bridge to the other side?”
Liza looked down and fiddled with the rings on her index finger for a moment, but her shoulders seemed to relax some. “It’s probably more accurate to say I have one foot on the bridge and one foot on really shaky ground.”
Not if you can joke about it, he thought. Even if it’s done in pain. You’re stronger than you think. Reed smiled. “Okay, but you’re self-aware. You know the things you need to work on and you’re actively doing that.” Reed wanted to ask her if he’d helped her in that effort. If that night they’d shared had helped her. And if it had, he’d be glad for it, despite the small price he’d paid—the rejection, the disappointment—and he’d consider it a sacrifice worth making. But right then was not the time to bring that up. Not then, probably not ever.
“That’s always the hard part though, isn’t it? Knowing how to face your demons and then following through.”
“Well, if what you’re doing isn’t working out so great, maybe you need to try something different.”
Liza gazed over at him. Her eyes were tired, but her smile was gentle, even a little teasing. “I thought I was supposed to be the doctor here.”
Reed grinned in response to the line she’d used when she’d first met him at Lakeside. “Yeah, but you’re still human,” he said, repeating his own line. “And even doctors can’t operate on themselves.”
Liza laughed and seemed almost surprised by the fact that she did. “How in the world are you so perfect, Reed Davies?”
