Page 9 of The Raven
Someone was in my apartment.
Not turning the lights on, I pulled my gun from its holster under myjacket and held it out in front of me as I slowly tiptoed through the hallway. The tapping grew louder the closer I got to the living area, my heart rate accelerating with every step I took.
Peering around the corner, I found my living room as I’d left it. And yet, thetap, tap, tapcontinued. My gaze darted to the balcony doors where the noise was coming from, but the blinds I’d pulled earlier in the evening prevented me from seeing what was causing the tapping.
Keeping my gun raised, my senses on full alert, I crept across theroom. When I reached the blinds, I positioned myself to one side before peeking through, my body once again relaxing at finding a black raven perched on the small table on the balcony, its beak tapping against the glass top.
I lowered my gun and pulled the cord to adjust the blinds, the earlymorning sun streaming into my apartment and stinging my eyes. The bird stopped tapping, lifting its head to look at me.
“You scared the shit out of me, little bird,” I muttered, a small smilelifting on my lips at feeling stupid for being spooked over a bird.
“The bird won’t hurt you, Detective,” a soft voice said from behind me.
Years of training had my instincts on high alert in an instant. I spun,aiming my gun at the figure lurking in the shadows of my kitchen, where the sun’s rays hadn’t quite reached.
That strange feeling of familiarity descended through me, and as myeyes trailed over what I could see of the figure, I knew in a beat that it was the same woman I’d seen outside Boogie’s apartment earlier.
How the fuck had she gotten into my apartment? More importantly,whywasshe in my apartment?
“Will you?” I asked, refusing to lower my gun.
She didn’t reply for a few tense moments, and my finger hovered overthe trigger, prepared to fire if she suddenly launched herself at me.
“No. I won’t hurt you.”
I still didn’t lower my gun. “What are you doing in my apartment?”
Again, there was a pause before she answered, and when she did,confusion laced her tone. “I…I don’t know.”
My brows furrowed. Not only because of her strange answer, but because Irecognized her voice. Or at least, I thought I did.
“You were on South Street earlier,” I said, my pulse thumping furiously fromthe adrenaline rushing through my veins.
“Is that a question or a statement?” she replied, her hooded headtilting to one side.
I narrowed my eyes. “Let me rephrase.Wereyou on South Street earlier?”
“Yes.”
“And what were you doing there?”
“Is this an interview, Detective? Do I need a lawyer?” she replied, ahint of humor in her voice.
Copper’s instinct told me she wasn’t going to attack me. Not yet,anyway. I lowered my gun. “You tell me. Is there something you wish to confess to?”
“Are you asking me if I was the one who sliced and diced Boogie?”
It took every ounce of self-control not to act surprised. We hadn’treleased the identity of the murder victim, and we certainly hadn’t released how he was killed. Only the killer would’ve known those details.
“Did you kill him?” I replied, my hand tightening around the gun I stillgripped in my hand.
“Would you arrest me if I did?”
Frustration coursed through me that she was still hidden by the shadows,because the more I spoke to her, the more convinced I was becoming that Raven Blackwood was in my apartment.
Which would have been impossible.
“Of course. We can’t have murderers roaming the streets.”
