Page 20 of The Liar's Wife

“What did he say?”

“He’s ordering a new piece of trim to go around the door.” He pulled open the door and showed me the place where the tan trim had been torn back, splintering in several different directions. It was a small, rather unnoticeableamount of damage, but it was there. “But the deadbolt is still in place. There aren’t any cameras or anything in the hallway, so there’s not really anything he can do. He said we should make sure we have renters insurance and contact a security company.”

“Well, that’s helpful.” I sighed.

“Most likely it was someone planning to break in while we were away, but when they heard me, they ran.”

“Did they get any of the neighbors? What did the police say? Have there been any break-ins in this neighborhood recently? These things aren’t usually random, right?”

He sighed. “Dimitri said calling the police wouldn’t get us far. We wouldn’t even be a priority with just a piece of trim broken. What do you think? Should I call? It doesn’t look like any of the other apartments were bothered.”

My jaw dropped open. “Of course you should call, Ben. They’ll have to do a report. Why haven’t you already called? You should’ve done that first.”

“I called Dimitri first to see about getting a copy of the security tape in case the police needed it, and to let him know it happened. He just said it’s up to us, but that in his experience, it’s best not to bother with the police for something like this.”

“There’s a security camera at the front entrance, right?” I asked, thinking back. This was supposed to be a safe neighborhood. We’d never had any issues before. It was why I’d chosen to live here alone before Ben. I’d always felt safe.

“Yeah, it doesn’t work, apparently. I’ll do whatever you think’s best. I just don’t want the police to think we’re wasting their time when nothing even happened. You know what they say, even filing a report when somethingwasstolen, you’re not likely to get it back. So filing one when nothing was stolen seems silly to me.”

“But they broke our trim, so they obviously wanted in for some reason. What happens next time when no one’s home?”

“I’ll call if you want me to. If it’ll make you feel more comfortable. Do you want me to?”

I chewed my bottom lip. I wanted him to call, yes. I wanted justice. I wanted answers. But, at the same time, I knew he was right. There was likely very little that would be done or evencouldbe done. “Dimitri really wasn’t worried about it?”

He glanced at his phone. “He said he can get some trim, so there’s no reason to file an insurance claim, and with nothing else damaged or missing, the cops won’t take us seriously.”

“Okay.” I paused, unable to deny the worry in my belly. I needed to do the right thing, to keep my child safe. “No, I’m sorry. I hear what you’re saying, but I want you to call. Even if they don’t take us seriously, I want them to have it on record that this happened.”

“Okay,” Ben said, nodding slowly. He picked up his phone. “I’ll call.”

The police madeit atop priorityand arrived to take our report just over three hours later. Right from the start, I could tell Ben had been right. It was a mistake to call.

The officers who came, Officers Hendricks and Malone, made a big show of examining the door and the torn trim before they entered our apartment, listening to Ben as he went over the day’s events.

“This is an old building, lots of scuffs on the walls. Are you sure the trim was damaged because of this? Sometimes you just don’t notice damage until you really examine it.”

Ben was tight-lipped, already irritated that I’d pushed the call. “It wasn’t damaged before. We would’ve noticed.”

“Okay, so,” he flipped open a notepad, though he didn't produce a pen, “do you have any reason to be worried that someone might break in? Did you recently make any large purchases, sit boxes on the curb? Do you have any enemies?”

“We haven’t made any large purchases, and our trash goes in the bin around back. It’s a shared dumpster for the whole complex. And, no, to my knowledge, we have no enemies.” He glanced at me for a half-second, irritation emanating from him.

“What about you?” Hendricks asked. “Any enemies? Anything suspicious?”

I shook my head. “This has always been a quiet neighborhood. We’ve never had issues, even with packages being left at our doors. They’ve always been left alone.”

“Are there any new neighbors?” he asked, finally pulling a pen from his pocket. “Anyone who could’ve brought trouble?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” I said. “Ben’s home during the day, though.” I looked at him.

“I haven’t seen anyone new, no. We were lucky to get this place. The building is sought after. Palmer had been on the waiting list for a year before she moved in. Once people get here, they tend to stay.”

He jotted something down in a notebook. “Does your property manager live on site? We’ll want to check with them. I didn’t notice any cameras in the hall… Do they have them?”

He was asking questions as fast as we could answer them, obviously not too concerned about what we were saying. The other officer stood silently around him, his eyes traveling around the room. “Dimitri’s our super. I can give you his number. He lives downstairs. Next to the office. And, no, there aren’t any cameras. The ones outside don’t work.”

“Well, that’s useful.” Hendricks smirked.