Well, except for my apron.”
He pursed his lips, his smile both quizzical and condescending.
She pointed toward the hook by her front door. “I usually leave it hanging there but noticed it gone one day. Didn’t really think much about it, though. Not until the night that ...”
Lorena hustled into the living room with a platter of simple ham and cheese sandwiches balanced on one hand. Her sling was gone, but her wrist was still heavily wrapped. “I came over here the night of the storm and helped Tasha with a roof leak. The next day, Marc stopped by and noticed that someone had dug up his lot next door.”
Officer Wesley furrowed his brow. “Had you seen anybody?”
“That’s the thing,” Lorena said. “Tasha and I spent most of the night in the ER, so no, we didn’t hear or see anything.”
“And the next day, one of Marc’s crew found my apron,” Tasha cut in. “It had been shoved into one of the grooves dug into the property.”
The officer scratched his chin. He crossed his arms and sat back. “Seems somebody’s been trying to keep these crimes a secret from the authorities.”
Tasha frowned. Her head still swam with a cocktail of drugs and fuzzy memories, but she couldn’t think of any person she knew who would want to keep the goings on of the past few weeks from the police.
Other than, of course, the criminal himself.
Officer Wesley leaned forward, jamming his forearms into his lap. He zeroed in on Tasha’s eyes. “Now, why do you think anyone would want to do that?”
Lorena stood up. “That’s enough. Tasha’s been through a terrible ordeal, and I think it’s high time we get her to a hospital.” She pointed at Marylu. “You need to drive.”
Marylu pushed Wolfy off her lap. “Absolutely! Let’s go, girls.”
“In a minute, Lorena.” The officer turned his attention to Tasha. “I need a description of the suspect.”
“She already said she doesn’t remember anything,” Lorena shot back.
“Fine.” He balanced his hat back on his head. “I’ll follow you in my squad car and we’ll do this in the hospital.”
Tasha forced another bite of sandwich into her. Her eyes watered and queasiness threatened her. “No, Lorena, it’s fine. I-I’m not feeling well, officer, but I’ll tell you everything ... everything I remember.”
He flipped over another page on his pad. “You said someone came to the door. What happened before that?”
For the first time since she’d walked back into her home, she relayed everything she could remember: Marc’s Christmas gift, followed by a bottle of red, and a sweet note left on her table.
“Okay, and then you heard a knock on the door.”
“Yes.”
“So you got up and answered it?”
“Yes.”
“And ...?”
Lorena rubbed her back. “Try to remember who was there, honey.”
Tasha looked at the hat on the officer’s head and stopped. Any color in her cheeks surely had disappeared.
“What is it?” Marylu asked.
She glanced at Marylu and then at Lorena. “H-he ... wore a hat.”
“What kind of hat?” Officer Wesley asked, unable to hold a poker face. He began tapping his pen on that pad of paper, clearly anxious for this last bit of news.
She gulped air and looked to Lorena for strength, blinking rapidly. “A ... black one,” she said, her eyes flooding. “A black ... cowboy hat.”
A painful silence swept into the room.
“But ... wait,” Tasha blurted, shaking her head. “D-don’t read anything into that—I’m so confused right now ...”
Officer Wesley’s phone beeped and he held it up to look at the screen. A triumphant smile unfurled across his face, and he stood, snapping his notepad shut. “We have our suspect, ladies.” He looked at each of them in turn and doffed his hat. “I’ll see myself out.”
As he marched out of her house, Tasha wanted to run after him, to cry “wait” ... but both her legs—and her lungs—failed
He pursed his lips, his smile both quizzical and condescending.
She pointed toward the hook by her front door. “I usually leave it hanging there but noticed it gone one day. Didn’t really think much about it, though. Not until the night that ...”
Lorena hustled into the living room with a platter of simple ham and cheese sandwiches balanced on one hand. Her sling was gone, but her wrist was still heavily wrapped. “I came over here the night of the storm and helped Tasha with a roof leak. The next day, Marc stopped by and noticed that someone had dug up his lot next door.”
Officer Wesley furrowed his brow. “Had you seen anybody?”
“That’s the thing,” Lorena said. “Tasha and I spent most of the night in the ER, so no, we didn’t hear or see anything.”
“And the next day, one of Marc’s crew found my apron,” Tasha cut in. “It had been shoved into one of the grooves dug into the property.”
The officer scratched his chin. He crossed his arms and sat back. “Seems somebody’s been trying to keep these crimes a secret from the authorities.”
Tasha frowned. Her head still swam with a cocktail of drugs and fuzzy memories, but she couldn’t think of any person she knew who would want to keep the goings on of the past few weeks from the police.
Other than, of course, the criminal himself.
Officer Wesley leaned forward, jamming his forearms into his lap. He zeroed in on Tasha’s eyes. “Now, why do you think anyone would want to do that?”
Lorena stood up. “That’s enough. Tasha’s been through a terrible ordeal, and I think it’s high time we get her to a hospital.” She pointed at Marylu. “You need to drive.”
Marylu pushed Wolfy off her lap. “Absolutely! Let’s go, girls.”
“In a minute, Lorena.” The officer turned his attention to Tasha. “I need a description of the suspect.”
“She already said she doesn’t remember anything,” Lorena shot back.
“Fine.” He balanced his hat back on his head. “I’ll follow you in my squad car and we’ll do this in the hospital.”
Tasha forced another bite of sandwich into her. Her eyes watered and queasiness threatened her. “No, Lorena, it’s fine. I-I’m not feeling well, officer, but I’ll tell you everything ... everything I remember.”
He flipped over another page on his pad. “You said someone came to the door. What happened before that?”
For the first time since she’d walked back into her home, she relayed everything she could remember: Marc’s Christmas gift, followed by a bottle of red, and a sweet note left on her table.
“Okay, and then you heard a knock on the door.”
“Yes.”
“So you got up and answered it?”
“Yes.”
“And ...?”
Lorena rubbed her back. “Try to remember who was there, honey.”
Tasha looked at the hat on the officer’s head and stopped. Any color in her cheeks surely had disappeared.
“What is it?” Marylu asked.
She glanced at Marylu and then at Lorena. “H-he ... wore a hat.”
“What kind of hat?” Officer Wesley asked, unable to hold a poker face. He began tapping his pen on that pad of paper, clearly anxious for this last bit of news.
She gulped air and looked to Lorena for strength, blinking rapidly. “A ... black one,” she said, her eyes flooding. “A black ... cowboy hat.”
A painful silence swept into the room.
“But ... wait,” Tasha blurted, shaking her head. “D-don’t read anything into that—I’m so confused right now ...”
Officer Wesley’s phone beeped and he held it up to look at the screen. A triumphant smile unfurled across his face, and he stood, snapping his notepad shut. “We have our suspect, ladies.” He looked at each of them in turn and doffed his hat. “I’ll see myself out.”
As he marched out of her house, Tasha wanted to run after him, to cry “wait” ... but both her legs—and her lungs—failed
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