Page 71 of The Inmate
“I’ll come to the 5K tomorrow,” he says. A peace offering. “I’ve got my T-shirt all laid out on my dresser.”
“Fine.”
“I’m sorry, Nat.” Every time he says it, it’s a knife in my heart. “But I’m sure this will all blow over. I mean, you didn’t do anything wrong. How could you have? That detective is just giving you a hard time.”
“Yeah…”
Except there’s something more going on. I haven’t told Caleb about that ceramic turtle I found in my laundry hamper, and after he snitched on me to the detective, there’s no way I would consider it. But there’s a reason Santoro keeps hounding me. I don’t know what it is, but somebody has it in for me. I just don’t know who. Or why.
The doorbell rings, and I almost jump out of my skin. Even from the sofa, I can see the red and blue lights flashing behind the front door.
Oh no.
“Caleb,” I gasp. “I’ve got to go.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I… I’m fine. I have to go.”
Before he can answer, I end the call. I rise from the sofa, facing the lights of the police vehicle. Except it’s not just the one light on top of the detective’s car. It’s more than that. There are a bunch of police cars outside my house.
Something terrible is about to happen.
ChapterForty-Two
I standat the door for several minutes, shaking too hard to work the lock and get it open. Part of me wants to make a run for it. I could go out the back door and then…
Well, what could I do? My car is parked in front of the house. There’s nowhere to go. And I’m hardly the type to be on the run from the police.
Finally, I turn the locks and crack open the front door. It’s no surprise that Detective Santoro is standing in front of my door. It’s hard to remember a time when I used to be able to open the door and hewasn’tstanding there.
“Hello, Miss Farrell.” He doesn’t even crack a grim smile. His lips are a straight line. “We have a warrant to search your house.”
I don’t doubt that the warrant was obtained after my stupid boyfriend informed him that I did not, in fact, have an alibi.
“I see.” I feel like I’m choking. “I guess then… come in.”
I step aside to allow the detective and his crew into my house. This seems like the deepest violation. These police officers are in my home. But what can I do? They obviously had enough evidence to get a warrant to search the place. I don’t know how though. I mean, half of Boston probably doesn’t have an alibi for last Monday night.
“Should I wait in my car?” I ask in a tiny voice.
“We gotta search your car too,” he says, without a hint of apology in his voice. “I need you to open the locks on the door.”
I don’t have much choice but to cooperate. I grab my car keys, point them in the direction of my car, and I hit the key fob to unlock the doors. The lights flash as the doors unlock.
“Where am I supposed to go?” I ask Santoro.
He looks at me thoughtfully. “You can sit on your couch in the living room. I’ll stay with you.”
“Can I stay with a friend?” I could call Kim and crash at her place. If she’ll let me.
“I’m afraid not. I need you to stay on the premises.”
We head back into my living room, Santoro leading the way, and I follow wordlessly. I searched the house pretty thoroughly last night, but not as thoroughly as these officers seem to be looking. I can hear loud noises coming from upstairs in the kitchen. The sound of a dish breaking.
Thank God I got rid of that ceramic turtle. I even ran all the clothing in the laundry hamper through the wash.
I sit gingerly on the sofa, and Santoro sits beside me. His black eyes are trained on mine. The room feels unbearably stuffy, like I can’t even breathe. I wish I could go outside, but it’s really cold out. Still, I’d rather be anywhere but here.
