Page 25 of Tinsel Time Treasure
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. “I haven’t had fresh flowers in close to a year.”
“Jefferson,” the cop called to his partner. “Come get a photo.”
We continued the walkthrough as the second cop took photos of the rose. Everything seemed to be in-place, but I still had a creepy-crawly sensation just from knowing that Frederick had been in my apartment.
Because I knew it was him. The rose was a statement: I could do it the nice way, or he could get at me whenever he wanted.
I shivered and followed the cop into the bedroom. Once again, it all looked right. Still, any sense of safety had been shattered.
“Anything?” he asked.
I walked around, grabbing a couple tissues from the box on my nightstand so that I could open drawers without leaving prints, just in case it mattered.
Somehow I knew that Frederick wouldn’t be that careless. He’d been careful until then. I could accuse him of breaking in all I wanted, but the police wouldn’t be able to do anything without evidence.
“Nothing’s missing,” I declared after a couple minutes. “Not that I can tell right now anyway.”
“So he didn’t take anything, but left a rose on the table?”
I nodded.
The cop growled low. “Sick fucker.”
“What now?” I asked.
The cop sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “To be honest, there’s not much more we can do here. We could call in crime scene and have them dust for prints, but unless the guy’s an idiot he probably wore gloves. Plus it’ll be intrusive. We’ll add today’s break-in and photos to the report you already filed with Officer Davidson, but unless we get proof that it was him, or he escalates…”
My hands shook. “He gets away with it,” I whispered.
“Unfortunately, yes. We need evidence in order to arrest him. Since nothing is missing we can’t go busting down his door looking for stolen items, and even if we had him on camera buying roses somewhere, that’s not illegal. There’s no proof that he’s the one who left it.”
A whine burst from my throat. “There’s nothing that I can do? Not even a restraining order?”
He shook his head. “No judge would grant it. There’s just not enough evidence.”
I wiped away a tear of frustration.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. But our hands are tied.”
I sniffled and nodded. “Thank you.”
He studied me for a minute, then rested a hand on my shoulder. The contact felt patronizing—poor scared omega who couldn’t even go into his own apartment alone.
I shrugged off his hand. “Thank you for your help.”
He huffed a breath out through his nostrils, flaring them slightly at my refusal to accept his attempt at comfort. But I didn’t want his sympathy, I wanted him to make Frederick go away.
And he’d made it clear that he couldn’t do that.
“Is there anything else?” he asked.
“No.” I shook my head.
“Ok. We’ll only be a few more minutes.”
“Got it.”
