I said what I could to relieve the anxiety. In the end, there's
nothing you can say to comfort a victim who senses the system's
potential to fail.
I raised the phone message from Haley with caution. 'Grace mentioned
that Haley is trying to get in touch with you. I didn't realize you
had stayed in contact with her.'
'I haven't. She called, that's all.'
'She give you any idea what she wanted?' I said.
The distinctively teenage sulk came through loud and clear over the
phone. 'Will you please, like, not freak out? She was just wondering
how I was doing.'
I didn't like the idea that Haley might be working her way back into
Kendra's life, so I said what I could to discourage her from returning
the call. I knew in the end she'd do what she wanted.
I'd been looking forward to curling up with a book and going to bed
early when I got home. That's not what happened.
I should've known something was wrong as soon as I put my key in the
lock. Vinnie usually runs to the front door to welcome me home. OK,
so it's more of a waddle. The point is that he comes to the door when
he hears my keys. This time, I could hear Vinnie barking, but he
wasn't at the door.
I remember the noise behind me in the dark as I bolted the front door.
And I think I remember feeling the crack against my head that quickly
followed, but maybe I fabricated that memory later with the help of
blinding head pain and a lump the size of a golf ball.
When I came to, the clock told me I'd been out for an hour. My house
was a wreck. Cupboards were open, cushions were thrown, drawers were
emptied. And I could still hear Vinnie's muffled barks from somewhere
in the back of the house.
As much as I wanted to run to him, I'd watched enough scary movies to
know what to do if someone might be in your house. What you don't do
is creep around in the dark silence. That's how you wind up skewered
by some guy in a bad mask.
Instead, I went to my car, started the engine, and used my cell phone
to call 911. And my dad. And then Chuck. And then I realized I could
call everyone I knew, and it wouldn't get the first of them here any
faster.
So I waited and watched. Even when I could hear the sirens, still no
sign of life. Whoever tore the place apart must have left after
knocking me out.
Two patrol officers swept through the house while the EMTs finished
checking me out in the ambulance. No concussion, just assurances that
I'd have a brutal headache for the next forty-eight hours.
The police cleared me to enter after I showed them my ID and assured
them I knew how to handle a crime scene. A pane in the back door had
been smashed to gain entry.
Chuck and Dad showed up around the time I was freeing Vinnie from the
kitchen pantry. Knowing Vinnie, he'd made a valiant effort, but it
doesn't take much to kick a French bulldog into the nearest closet. He
put up a brave front when I picked him up, but I could feel him
shaking.
Dad kept on eye on me, while Chuck pulled rank to make the patrol
officers page out a technician to search for prints. PPB doesn't dust
every home burg, so I was getting special treatment. Must have been
the nasty knock to the head.
When he was done with immediate business, Chuck came into the kitchen
where my dad was fixing me a drink and monitoring the ice pack on my
head. 'You doing OK?'
'Yeah, I guess.'
'How's the mutt?' he said, smiling as he flipped one of Vinnie's ears
over.
'Seems to be getting over it. Dad's going to take him to the vet for
me tomorrow just to make sure he's alright.'
One of the young patrol officers walked in and gave the kitchen a
cursory look over 'Man, they really did a number, didn't they?'
I looked around and took in just how bad the place looked. And then I
took it out on the patrol officer. 'Better call off the crime scene
team. McGruff the Crime Dog here has got the whole thing figured out.
Yep, they really did a number on the place. I hadn't picked up on
that, Mr. Sensitivity. Jesus Christ, get yourself a copy of Policing
for Idiots before you go out on any more calls.' I put my hands
against the kitchen table, pushed my chair back, and stormed over to
the sink to look out the window.
Dad came to my side and patted my shoulder while I fought back tears
and tried to regain my composure. When I'd gotten myself under control
