“Jury’s out.”
Jack didn’t have to look at Bowie to know the legacy cop was grinning. A grin served as the kid’s default expression. The twentysomething deputy with a little more than three years under his belt was also one of the most organized and reliable officers Jack had worked with in his nearly twelve years on the job. Which was why Jack had specifically requested him as his partner while his usual cohort Cole Delaney finished his vacation. Besides, Bowie was looking to earn his detective’s badge, and Jack was happy to play mentor for the time being. “Tell me what you do know, Bowie. Who’s the caller?”
“Greta Renault. Resident across the street. Claims to have witnessed a crime from her window but wouldn’t give any details over the phone. The dispatcher couldn’t shake the feeling something was off, so rather than listing it as a nuisance call, the supervisor called the lieutenant who—”
“Who decided my first day back on the job should start with a bang. Awesome.” Jack’s first question was what this Greta Renault had been doing spying out her window at this time of night. In his experience, calls like this were a cry for help, in more ways than one.
“A patrol unit did a quick sweep, didn’t find anything amiss. I did a walk-around while I was waiting for you,” Bowie continued. “I didn’t see anything either around the caller’s building or the one in question. I did knock on the door of the office complex and spoke with the night security officer. He said as far as he knew, he was the only one in the building. Which makes sense as it’s still under construction in some parts.”
“Sounds like someone’s been watching too much Hitchcock.” Jack took in his surroundings as they headed toward the caller’s front door. Nothing like dead of night silence to ease a cop’s mind. This time of year in the Sacramento Valley, when April was sliding into May, the weather had yet to decide which direction to go. Cool nights and warmish days interspersed with surprise thunderstorms and retina-blasting sunshine. Personally, Jack preferred crisp nights like this. Nothing could hide in the silence. Even the quietest cough couldn’t go unnoticed while shadows caught in the beams of determined streetlamps.
A twinge of envy nudged at him as he looked up at the impressive structure that reminded him somewhat of a New York City brownstone. He’d always liked this part of town, the way historic Sacramento, California, meshed with newer, flashier and less interesting architecture. Such a stark contrast to his two-bedroom condo in the family-heavy suburb of Elk Grove. This recently restored landmark brick building where the witness lived was situated within walking distance to the new downtown arena, a nice neighborhood grocery, the capitol building, and the ever popular Old Sac, the tourist trap that had caught Jack up in its temptations on more than one occasion since he’d moved here almost three years before. This part of town, with its combination of corporate offices, hole-in-the-wall restaurants and reputation-building art galleries tended to be a bustling part of town during the day. At four in the morning? Not so much.
“What do we know about Miss Renault?” Jack sipped his cooling jolt of caffeine and tried to ignore the haunting sound of his sister’s disapproving tsks. He’d done everything she’d instructed during what seemed like his endless recovery, including cutting down on red meat and upping his intake of kale. He was not, however, willing to give up coffee. No matter how much Ashley grumbled at him.
“We don’t know much,” Bowie said. “She only moved to Sacramento last summer, but two years before she bought this building and had it renovated into loft apartments. She’s currently the only occupant, though. Must be weird, living in this big a building all alone.” Bowie craned his neck to look up. “Bet it would play with your head.”
Jack agreed. He knew how the solitude could push in on a person and keep them on edge. “You liking these early hours?”
“Not particularly, sir. But it’s part of the job.”
That it was. Knowing Bowie, however, the deputy had already rearranged the times and days he spent volunteering at local teen centers and the Y teaching self-defense classes to kids of all ages. “So what do you think?” Jack glanced up at the four-story facade. “Want to lay odds on what this turns out to be?”
“Ah.” Bowie glanced at Jack with a familiar twinkle in his always appraising eye. “I’ll put twenty on our witness having partaken in some recreational smoking products.”
Jack chuckled and pressed the one intercom button outside the custom wood and glass-etched door. “There’s that sense of humor that keeps us all sane. I’ll take that bet. But I’ll go with lonely. Someone needs some attention.”
“Safe bet,” Bowie mumbled.
Jack bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t like the idea of anyone thinking he preferred to play anything safe, but the truth was...that’s exactly what he planned to do. He had to if he was going to convince his superiors that he was ready to be on the job again. Because he’d realized one thing while he’d been lying in bed, going out of his mind with boredom: without this job, he had nothing. He pressed two fingers against his heart as doubt surged. Doubt that had him considering putting in for a promotion if he didn’t think he’d die a lot sooner stuck behind a desk.
He hit the buzzer again.
“Yes?” A calm, slightly breathy, coherent voice drifted out of the state-of-the-art intercom speaker.
“Detective Jack McTavish and Officer Bowman from Major Crimes, ma’am.” Jack leaned in and pressed the button as he spoke. “We understand you’d like to report a crime?”
Silence echoed on the other end. Jack frowned at Bowie, who shrugged.
“Ma’am?” Jack said again.
“I didn’t think you were coming.”
Translation: they’d taken
