Knock, knock, knock.
I sit up in bed, trying to place the sound until I realize it’s someone knocking on my front door. Sliding out of the sheets, I reach for my robe and gingerly walk to the front door. Every muscle is sluggish, but light at the same time. As though I got enough sleep but fought in a world championship boxing fight the day before.
The cold floor seeps into my feet, making my entire body frigid. Before I even reach the door, I know who’s waiting for me: Detective Radovich.
I unlock the deadbolt and swing the door open.
“Come on in, Dan,” I say, stepping back and swinging my hand out to offer up my living room.
The detective’s stance is wide, but timid at the same time; clearly conflicted with why he’s here. His blonde eyebrows raise high above his dark blue eyes, and he lets out a relieved sigh.
“Hi Diana, sorry to bother you this way. I’ve been trying to call you this morning, but you haven’t answered. Your employee was getting nervous,” he says, taking off his hat, and stepping inside.
“Huh?” I say, shooting him a confused look.
“Renaldo, I think his name is.”
“Yeah, that’s him. What do you mean he’s getting nervous? I called and left a message for him last night saying I wouldn’t be in.”
I walk over to my recliner and take a seat. The detective does the same, opposite me on the couch.
“Diana, that was four days ago,” Dan says. “I listened to the message myself. He’s been here knocking at your door a number of times, but you’ve never answered. He got worried.”
My eyes widen, “What? You have to be kidding me?”
“No joke. Wish it was,” he says, his eyebrows flicking up to his head.
The impressions of his own surprise are palpable. He’s always been an advocate for my abilities, but he’s still shocked I wasn’t aware of how long I’ve been MIA.
“Everything okay?” he asks, glancing around the room.
Stifling back a yawn, I take a quick assessment of how I feel. Tired, but overall starting to regain most of my faculties.
“I’m okay. I think I over-used my abilities. Needed to take a beat to catch up on rest,” I admit.
Dan takes a moment to consider, then nods his head.
“You were awfully busy. In fact, we’ve been having a helluva time with the case you and that PI were working on, too. Coulda used some help these past few days,” he says.
“I know,” I say, remembering the vision I had before I passed out.
“You do?”
“Yeah, the men got away, right?” I say, leaning back in the chair and tucking the bottom of my robe around my legs.
Dan nods.
“Yeah, sure did,” he says, pressing his fingertips together. “One guy’s dead—”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to find them. At least Esther’s safe now.”
“Very true. From the way your PI friend tells it, her rescue was damn near your sole accomplishment,” he says.
My lips spread downward in surprise.
“He actually said that?”
“Pretty much. Said you were instrumental in getting her outta there,” Dan says, reaching for his hat.
I didn’t expect Blake to lie, per se, but I’ve gotta admit, I’m surprised he gave me as much credit as he did. I mean, he’s right—I was the one to figure out where she was and get her outta there. Not to mention, warn him about the others. But still…
“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” he says, glancing at my robe. “Looks like you need to get dressed.”
I smile uneasily.
“Yes, I guess I do. Thanks for stopping by, Dan. I’ll give Ren a call now so he can stop worrying.”
“You do that,” he says, standing up.
“Good luck on the case. I’m sure you’ll find they other guys. They didn’t seem like overly criminal masterminds, if you know what I mean. Mostly arrogant assholes who thought they could get away with anything,” I say, remembering the impressions I got from the other two.
“Thanks, sure do hope you’re right. Anyway, talk soon,” he says, opening the front door and stepping outside.
As he closes the door behind him, I walk up to it and lock the deadbolt into place.
“Looks like I have some explaining to do,” I mutter to myself.
“You’re telling me some strange guy broke into your house and you decided, ‘oh, what the hell, I’ll go with him?’ And all this time you were sleeping? Like, actual sleep, sleeping?” Ren says for the second time, his eyebrows edging toward his hairline. As if it didn’t compute the first time around.
“Yes, for the love of all that’s holy; I was sleeping,” I say, annunciating slowly, “Why is that so hard to fathom?”
Christ, what in the hell else would I be doing for four goddamn days? I’m not that kinky. Sheesh.
I shake my head in disbelief.
“What a waste of four days. You coulda at least lied and said you took an impromptu road trip to Cancun with the PI who broke into your house because you fell wildly, madly, deeply in love, and wanted to live it up for a few days. That I coulda believed, and at least admired,” he says, slumping in his seat across from me, “but this?”
He sighs indignantly.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Ren. No wild, mad love here. In fact, he was kinda frustrating more than anything else.”
“Aren’t they all?” he says, flippantly.
“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?” I say, raising a knowing eyebrow, and leaning back in my chair.
I don’t even have to be psychic to know Ren’s feeling neglected again. He and Brody have had an on again, off again romance which can be best described as true love. They annoy the hell outta each other so much, there’s no other way to describe it. They’re made for each other, truly.
“Oh my God, please, Diana. I don’t want to talk about Mr. ‘let’s drop my skivvies anywhere but the hamper.’ I need something happy. Tell me something happy,” he says, pressing his hands together in mock
