Page 244 of Murder

Once I shifted my focus from worrying about what I'd find at my destination, I was able to enjoy the ride. The Chevelle was the main reason I never balked at having to travel for meetings. That car was my sanctuary. My escape.

And, unfortunately, it usually got me from A to B much faster than I wanted.

Before I had time to revisit my earlier misgivings, I was sitting in front of Talia's apartment building and hoping like hell that I wasn't making a mistake by getting involved.

I stepped out of the car and pulled my jacket tighter around myself as I approached the entrance. The chill in the air was a reminder that, although spring was nearly upon us, winter still lingered.

My breath came out in thick plumes as I hurried into the lobby. The place was somewhere between middle and upper class. Expensive flooring polished to a high shine, a reception desk made out of deep cherry, and beautiful artwork tastefully placed throughout. It was impressive, in a cold way.

I stepped over to the desk, catching the eye of the young man seated behind it as he absently set aside his phone. His reddish hair was long and stringy, tucked behind his ears and in need of a good wash. His light eyes were red-rimmed.

I flashed a smile and tipped my head toward him. "Hey. How's it going?"

His expression was tired and a bit distracted. He cast a longing glance at his phone before answering, "Not too bad. How can I help you?"

"My name is Spencer Erickson. I believe Alison Walker called ahead about me."

It was interesting watching the guy scouring his memory for the conversation with Ali. His brow crinkled and he was midway through shaking his head “no” when the fog lifted and he snapped his fingers, seeming momentarily startled by the sound.

He wore no name tag, but I was betting this was Stony the Sloth.

"Oh, yeah. You're the dog walker or plant waterer or something, right?"

Close enough. I smiled to hide my snicker. "Yep. That's me. Ali said you'd have the spare key for me when I got here."

He rummaged around on the desk, twice grazing a hand over his phone to check for messages before finally pulling the key marked 7B and handing it over. "Here you go. You can't take it when you leave but I have it written down that you're authorized to use it so you don't have to get Ali to call each time you come to..." he stumbled to remember for a moment before adding, "do whatever you do. She told me it was okay."

I accepted the key, knowing full well that I wouldn't be needing to come back but not sharing that information with Stony. "Thanks, man. I'll drop it off on the way out."

He nodded, turning his attention back to his phone without further comment as I waited for the elevator.

Yep, I could see why Clay liked him so much.

I stepped out of the elevator on the seventh floor and just stood there for a minute. It was nearing eight o'clock. The relative silence in the hallway was broken by my growling stomach loudly reminding me that I'd skipped lunch, and dinner was long overdue. It would have to wait. Hopefully, I could make quick work of this little mission and grab something on my way back home.

The door to apartment 7B sounded hollow beneath my knuckles when I knocked.

It was a disconcerting sound, one that instantly brought forth images of an injured or ill Talia lying just on the other side of the door, unable to obtain help all this time.

Shit, I was turning into Ali.

My heart was beating a little faster as I raised my hand to knock again, ears acutely attuned to any hint of sound. If there was no answer after a reasonable amount of time, I would go in uninvited.

I may have had a key, but I preferred not to use it unless I had to.

Three more sharp raps followed by silence.

I was midway through an internal debate about my next move when I heard a rustling on the other side of the door. A few seconds later, it came again. I reached out and tapped the door, calling out to her. "Talia?" No response. "Talia? It's Spencer. Ali sent me to check on you, and I'm not supposed to leave until I see you. Open the door, okay? I just need to know that you're all right and then I can go. I promise."

The rustling sound came again, this time directly on the other side of the door. Talia didn't speak, but the door clicked open a moment later. Just an inch. Then the rustling sound began moving away.

I tentatively reached out and pushed the door open, not sure what to make of her lack of response. Her retreating form moved across the living room, her back to me as she sniffed quietly.

Shit. She was crying.

From the looks of the wadded-up Kleenex covering every flat surface, she had been crying for quite a while.

The floorplan was open, expansive even, with high ceilings and large windows. The living room was directly in front of me, spacious and comfortably furnished. There was a large couch against the wall to the left and a matching loveseat facing the windows. The long coffee table was dotted with wadded Kleenex, as was the small end table next to the love seat.

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