Page 11 of Shadowed Witness (The Secrets of Kincaid #2)

After what seemed like an hour, Moore joined Allye on the porch. She stood and accepted her key from him but kept one hand on the back of the chair to help keep her balance.

“What did you find?”

“Not much. I dusted for prints, and we’ll need you to provide yours so we can rule them out. It would be helpful if anyone who’s regularly in your house could do the same.”

“I can do that.” And she’d have to ask her family to as well—or maybe not. She’d been too tired lately to have anyone over. Any prints they’d left might well have been eliminated weeks ago.

“Everything seemed to be locked up tight,” Moore continued. “I didn’t find an obvious point of entry.”

“He locked the door behind us,” she reminded him.

He made a noncommittal grunt. What did that mean? Instead of commenting on her attacker’s odd action, he thumbed over his shoulder. “He had to have gotten in before that though. Did you have the doors locked when you went to bed?”

“Yes. At least, I think so.” She normally kept the doors locked at night, but with her memory lately, she couldn’t be absolutely sure.

Moore sighed. “If you’re ready, we’ll walk through together. Tell me if you notice anything out of place.”

Before she could respond, another car pulled into her driveway.

She and Moore both turned toward the newcomer, who climbed from his car and headed toward them.

Allye squinted, but she couldn’t tell who it was until he had almost reached them.

Eric. The moment she recognized him, a bit of her fear and frustration ebbed away.

“I heard your address come over the scanner. What’s going on?” There was concern in his normally curt voice, and he seemed to be assessing her for damage.

“Someone broke into my house.”

“While you were at home?”

“Yes, but I’m okay. A couple bruises maybe, but he didn’t actually hurt me.” Scared about a decade off her life, but physically, he’d only been rough. He hadn’t injured her, even though he could have easily done so.

“Good.” He turned to Moore. “Status?”

Moore glanced from Eric to Allye and back and finally answered. “I just walked through the house. There’s no obvious point of entry. Nothing seems broken. Ms. Jessup was about to go back in with me and check for anything out of place.”

“Prints?”

The officer shrugged. “I took several samples, but the only place Ms. Jessup noticed him touch was the front doorknob—and there were no clear prints there.”

“How would there not be prints on the knob?” Allye interrupted. “I saw him grab it, and he didn’t wipe it clean after.”

“Things aren’t always as simple as TV makes it out to be.” Moore’s tone was bordering on patronizing. “And if he was wearing gloves—”

“He wasn’t. I saw his hand in my bedroom and when he reached for the door.” But then she remembered his touch. Against her face when he’d covered her mouth. Around her wrists. Her shoulders slumped.

“What?” Eric asked.

“It didn’t feel like skin. More like a smooth, tight-fitting material. I didn’t process that in the moment.”

“But it looked like skin?”

“Yes, but the lighting was so weird—maybe they were just light-colored gloves? Or the clear rubber ones.”

“Explain what you mean by weird lighting,” Moore broke back in.

“There was this ... green glow.”

Eric and Officer Moore exchanged looks.

“A green glow,” Eric repeated.

“Yes. It was ... odd. And it cut off once we got outside. But I don’t have anything in the house that would give off green light like that.” She spread her hands. “I don’t know where it came from.”

Another look passed between the men, then Moore cleared his throat. “Are you on any medications?”

“Am I what?” As she said the words, she understood his meaning. “No. I mean, I do take something for migraines, but nothing that would alter my mental status.” This couldn’t be happening. They didn’t believe her. Again. She crossed her arms. “I didn’t imagine this.”

Moore looked to Eric, and even without her glasses, Allye could see that the man was losing patience. Well, so was she.

“I. Didn’t. Imagine. It.” She started to sway, so she reclaimed her hold on the chair back.

“Ms. Jessup—”

“I can take things from here, Officer Moore,” Eric said. “Copy me on your report.”

“Glad to,” Moore muttered as he stalked off the porch.

“Honestly.” She’d never seen the man be so rude. Of course, she hadn’t interacted with him personally very often.

“You’re shaking. Are you sure you’re okay?” Eric’s quiet words helped calm her.

She took a deep breath and tightened her grip. “I’m good.” Okay, maybe that was a stretch, but for the moment, she was fine. She should probably sit though.

Eric didn’t look like he believed her, but he didn’t call her on it. “I need to hear the details of what happened. Would you be more comfortable inside?”

“That won’t contaminate evidence or anything?”

“Officer Moore’s already done his inspection. After you give me the details, we’ll do a walk-through together, but if you notice anything off when we enter the house, tell me right away and we’ll note it before proceeding.”

“All right.” She pried her fingers from the chair back and quickly shoved both hands into the hoodie’s front pocket where he wouldn’t be able to see them shaking. Stepping around him, she led the way to the door. Moore had left it unlocked, and the knob turned easily.

A shudder passed through her as she stepped inside. The officer had also left the lights on, which she much appreciated at the moment. Even with Eric at her back, she didn’t think she was ready to face her house in the dark.

“See anything?”

She jumped slightly at Eric’s voice. “No. Sorry.” She hadn’t realized she’d stopped just inside the doorway with no explanation. She continued inside, then half turned back to him.

“I’m going to get my glasses first, if that’s okay.”

“Certainly.”

“Make yourself at home.” She headed for her room and tried not to think about what had nearly occurred there—and what had occurred there—only an hour or so earlier.

Two steps into her bedroom, she stopped and cringed.

It was a mess. Bed unmade with blankets spilling over the side.

Clothing she hadn’t had the energy to hang in her closet had transformed the corner chair into a mountain.

And both her clean and dirty laundry baskets were nearly overflowing.

Even her nearsightedness couldn’t hide how bad it looked.

The thought of Officer Moore seeing all this was embarrassing.

Worse, she’d be bringing Eric back here soon.

Absolutely mortifying. She snatched her glasses from the nightstand, nearly knocking one of the half-empty water glasses off, and turned her back on the mess. Nothing she could do about it now.

On the way back, she caught sight of the dishes piled high in her sink. The weight in her stomach added a few pounds. If only she’d managed to keep up with things a little better ... But she hadn’t.

Yesterday was garbage day, so that at least was under control. And nothing smelled. That counted for something, right?

She dragged herself the rest of the way into the living room and collapsed in her favorite seat.

Eric perched on the edge of a nearby sofa, his ever-present notebook in his hand and his eyes trained on her.

His lips parted, then squeezed together again, as if he’d decided against saying something.

The kindness in those normally piercing blue eyes threatened to break down the front she was putting up. Don’t cry. Not now.

“Ready to tell me what happened?”

“I feel like we just did this.”

He didn’t smile at her attempted humor.

Suddenly nervous, she searched for something to occupy her hands.

Her knitting bag lay next to her chair, along with the other bags she’d unceremoniously dumped when she arrived home earlier.

More mess. But convenient this time. She grabbed her knitting and pulled out the glove she was working on.

It was a pattern she’d done so many times, she could do it in her sleep—as long as her fingers didn’t start spasming.

The feel of wool in her hands had an immediate calming effect.

Needles softly tapping, she related the night’s events, from waking up to her attacker and that ghastly green glow to when Eric arrived on her porch.

When she finished, Eric scratched a few more words in his notebook, then stared at the page.

When he met her gaze, she could plainly see the doubt there.

Something inside her shrank a little.

“You don’t believe me either, do you?”

Eric let a few seconds pass, like he was searching for a kind way to call her a liar.

Finally, he said, “I want to believe you, but think about what you say happened. You saw a green glow, someone broke into your house and acted like he intended to assault you, then started to kidnap you. But then he just ran off for no reason after locking you out of your house?”

Hearing it from his lips made her sound batty. “I admit it sounds crazy, but that’s what happened.”

“You’ve had a lot happen in the last couple days.”

A lot that couldn’t be explained. She understood the unspoken addendum.

A new wave of tiredness washed over her, and she let her knitting fall to her lap. “So that’s it, then? You and Officer Moore will write your reports and note that I’m off my rocker. Case closed.”

“Not quite. I’m going to do a walk-through with you like we already discussed, then we’re going to make sure your house is locked up tight so you can get some rest tonight. Then we’ll write our reports and run the fingerprints. Did Moore mention getting yours for comparison?”

“Yes. And if we don’t find anything and there are no fingerprint leads?”

“Then we keep our eyes open and hope either something turns up later or you aren’t bothered again.”

She tried not to make a face.

“Sorry. We can only go so far without anything to go on.”

Oops. A grimace must have slipped through. “I know.”

“One other thing. Are you aware of making anyone mad lately? A customer. Angry ex?”

“No.” As far as she knew, all her customers were satisfied.

No need to tell him she hadn’t dated in years.

That sounded so ... pitiful. Not that she hadn’t had a few offers—okay, one plus a few matchmaking attempts by her mom—but after her last boyfriend had broken off their serious relationship and promptly announced an engagement to someone else .

.. well, she’d needed a break. She just hadn’t expected it to turn into three years and counting.

But dating was out of the question right now.

Even if she wanted to—which she didn’t—she barely had the energy to keep up with normal life.

Eric stood. “Okay. I just had to ask. I know you’re exhausted. Let’s get the walk-through taken care of.”

She set her knitting aside and scooted to the edge of her seat.

Why was it so hard to muster enough energy to stand right now?

Just get up. Move! Instead, she just sat there.

Eric moved closer and offered his hand. She could—should—do it herself.

But she was so tired. After only a short hesitation, she grasped his hand and let him help her to her feet.

Once she felt steady—which took a few seconds longer than it should have—she withdrew her hand. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Steeling herself against the embarrassment of her messy house, she led him through the rooms, retracing the path she’d walked with her attacker, then checking into the other areas as well. The search turned up nothing of note. And Eric either didn’t notice or chose not to comment on her untidiness.

“Mind if I check your locks?” he asked when they were finished.

“Be my guest.”

She propped herself against a wall while he examined the front door, then followed him into the kitchen.

He unlocked the back door, opened it, bent to peer at the latch, then turned the lock and stepped outside.

He pulled the door shut, locking himself out.

But within seconds, he was letting himself back inside.

“How did you . . . ?”

He held up a credit card. “That lock is easy to disengage. A child could pop it with one of these.”

“So that was how he got in?”

Eric shrugged. “Can’t say for sure, but it would have been an easy point of entry.”

“Lovely.”

“You should install a dead bolt. Do you need help with that?”

“I’m sure Bryce will do it for me.”

He gave her a quick nod. “Good. I recommend having it done sooner rather than later.”

“Definitely.” She’d ask him to come by as soon as she got permission from her landlord.

“I’ll be going, then.” But instead of moving toward the front door, he studied her. “Are you sure you’re all right? If you want to call someone so you’re not here alone, I can wait.”

“No. I don’t want to bother anyone else tonight. Thank you though. And—” She moistened her lips. “Thank you for not blowing me off—even though I know I sound crazy. But also for not placating me with empty promises.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” He held her gaze, and for the briefest moment, she wished she could tell him about everything she had going on—not as a victim to a detective, but friend to friend. He would listen, maybe offer advice or comfort. She could use some comfort.

No. She put a hard stop on that line of thought. He didn’t need her to dump all that on him. She’d be all right.

She lifted what felt like a shaky smile. “Well, goodnight, then.”

“Get some rest, Allye.”