here?”
“Sorry,” I say, shutting the car door and then whirling around, trying not to look guilty. “I wanted to make sure the car was locked. Turns out it wasn’t, so it’s a good thing I checked.” I take the key fob and aim it at the car, hearing the locks snap down into place. Then I hand him the keys.
“I thought you might be making a run for it,” Richmond says. He is holding a purse. My purse, I realize.
“What do you mean? I thought you said I wasn’t under arrest.”
“You’re not, yet. But until I can do some more investigating, I don’t want you running around loose. You have too great a penchant for getting into trouble.”
I start to argue this point, but then I realize that history won’t bear me out.
“Come on,” Richmond says, handing me my purse and waving me toward the door to the building. “Ron Colbert is inside waiting to take you to the motel. He’ll stay outside your door tonight and someone will relieve him in the morning.”
Ron greets me with a smile and starts to lead me out back to his squad car. But I hesitate and ask Richmond one more thing. “Can Ron drive me by my place first so I can get some clean clothes?”
Richmond considers my request a moment and then shrugs. “Yeah, I suppose so.” He gives Colbert a pointed look. “Just be careful, okay?”
“Will do,” Colbert says.
As soon as I’m settled in the front seat of the squad car, I look through my purse to see if either of my cell phones is inside. They are not and I curse Richmond.
A few minutes later Colbert pulls up in front of my cottage, the squad car’s headlights aimed at the front door. Izzy’s house is dark and at first I assume that he and Dom are asleep. Then I remember their plans to visit Dom’s family for Thanksgiving and figure they must have taken Hoover along with them.
Colbert shifts into park but leaves the engine running. “Is Izzy home?” he asks, looking over at the darkened house.
“I don’t think so. He and Dom were going to drive down to Iowa to spend Thanksgiving morning with Dom’s family.”
“Wait here a minute,” he says. “Just to be safe, I want to go in ahead of you to check things out. Do you have a key?”
I dig through my purse, find my keys, and hand them to him. I watch as he goes up, unlocks the door, and disappears inside. Lights come on and I can see him in there scouting out the place. It doesn’t take long since the cottage isn’t very big, and a moment later he is standing in the doorway, waving for me to come in.
I get out of the car and head inside. On the floor of the kitchen I see two huge bowls: one filled with water and the other filled with cat food, no doubt the work of Dom and Izzy. That means Rubbish is here somewhere and I start calling for him.
“If you’re looking for a cat, I think it ran into the bedroom when I came in,” Ron says. “I saw something furry run that way so unless you have rats, I’m guessing it was your cat.”
I walk into the bedroom and get down on all fours to look under the bed. There, staring back at me, are two glowing eyes.
“Rubbish, come on out of there,” I coo. But he doesn’t budge. After a few more attempts at coaxing him out, the muscles in my neck near where I was Tasered start to cramp so I give up. I stand and see Ron in the bedroom doorway watching me. “I think he’s spooked from being alone,” I tell him. “He doesn’t seem to want to come out.”
I roll my neck and massage the area beneath the collar of my borrowed shirt to try to get my muscles to relax.
“That Taser must have got you good,” Ron says. “It will be sore for a couple of days but then it should be fine.”
“You say that like you’ve been Tasered before.”
“I have. We had to get hit with one as part of our police training.”
“Yikes. That couldn’t have been much fun.”
Colbert shrugs off my concern. “It was quick, at least,” he says.
I walk over to the closet and drag my one suitcase out. After tossing it on the bed, I open it and then head for the dresser.
That’s when it hits me. How does Ron Colbert know I was stung with a Taser? He can’t see the mark; it’s hidden beneath the mock turtleneck collar on my shirt. I think back to my talk with Richmond and to my phone conversations with both him and Izzy back when Hurley and I were making our getaway. Though I can’t be sure, I don’t recall mentioning the Taser to anyone. The only person who knew was Hurley . . . and the person who tried to abduct me.
All of a sudden, my mind starts making connections: the fact that Colbert has a small build, the fact that he’s new to the force, the fact that he insinuated himself into every part of the investigation, and the fact that it was he who discovered Callie’s body.
My heart starts to pound, racing along at a frightening clip. As I open my dresser drawer to take out some clean underwear, my hand starts to shake. Could Colbert be the killer?
Then I remember what Izzy said about Callie’s wounds and look at Colbert’s gun belt. His gun is holstered on his left side, though that in and of itself isn’t conclusive. When Hurley was talking about holsters he said some people prefer to cross draw rather than pull from the same side. Maybe Colbert is one of those. To find out, I walk over and dump my undies in the suitcase and then open the top drawer of my nightstand. Inside is a pad and pen I use to write down information whenever I get called out in the middle of the night. I take them out and hand them to Colbert.
“Do me a favor while I finish packing, would you? I want to leave a note for Izzy since he’s been taking care of my cat. Can you just scribble something down for me that says I’m okay and I’ll be in touch?”
“Sure,” Colbert says with a shrug, and after anchoring the pad with his right hand, he starts writing the note with his left.
Chapter 45
I watch Colbert scribble out the note, trying to figure out what to do next. I don’t want to jump to any wrong conclusions and convict the man just yet, because everything could be coincidental. But I don’t want to put myself in jeopardy either.
I walk over to the dresser to grab some jeans from a drawer. “Where are you from originally, Colbert?” I ask, trying to keep my tone relaxed and friendly.
“I grew up in Chicago.”
“Do you have family there?”
He shakes his head but offers no further explanation.
“Do you have any family here in Sorenson?”
“I’m pretty much on my own,” he says, sounding a bit terse.
“How did you end up in Sorenson?”
“Are you about done?” he asks, clearly irritated. “We need to get going.”
“Sorry,” I say, giving him an apologetic smile and carrying my jeans back to the suitcase. “I didn’t mean to be nosy.”
He makes no response and when I look over at him I find him studying me with an intense, curious expression.
“Where do you want me to put this note?” he asks.
“There are some magnets on the door of my fridge. Go ahead and stick it there. That’s where I always leave notes for Izzy.” This is an out-and-out lie since I have no reason to leave notes in here for Izzy, but I want to get Colbert out of the room. As soon as he leaves, I remove the gun from my jacket pocket and load the clip into it. Knowing how loud the slide is, and how small the cottage is, I sit on the edge of the bed, grab the slide and pull it back, holding it there. Then I lift one foot up and kick my lamp off the bedside stand. As soon as the lamp crashes
