Whispers and Lies. Diane Pershing
down in front of her, Will took both her freezing hands in his. Her face was white, her eyes huge and vulnerable. “No one’s here. You’re safe.”
She nodded.
“They didn’t get to the smaller bedroom, at least.”
She nodded again.
“Are you in shock? Talk to me.”
She shook her head, then managed, “Just…horrified.” She shrugged, a small helpless gesture. “And confused. Why? Who would do this?”
He stood, took out his cell phone and paced back and forth in front of the small fireplace as he placed a call to 911. After ascertaining that there didn’t seem to be imminent danger, the operator told him she’d report this immediately to the police.
Will squatted on his haunches, again took her cold hands in his and rubbed them together. “They’re on their way. Can I get you something? A glass of water?”
“Yes,” she said, licking around her mouth. “That would be nice.”
After double-locking the front door just to be safe, he headed to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water that Lou gulped down quickly. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she set the glass down on a side table, then gazed around the room again.
“I don’t understand.”
“This happened to me once in D.C. and when I got home I was shocked at first, then really pissed off. It’s a kind of violation, isn’t it?”
She nodded, but seemed distracted. After a moment, she shook her head slowly. “I thought it was nothing.”
“You thought what was nothing?”
“The last few days. I’ve had this…creepy feeling, like someone was watching me, following me.”
“Really?”
She nodded again, her brows furrowed. “It was nothing I could see, nothing tangible, but I sensed it. It was like he, they, whatever, were waiting for something. For me to do something.” She turned her gaze on him. “Since Mom died, I go down to the clinic in the morning and come back up here at night. I don’t much go anywhere else. And what I think, although I could be wrong, is that they were waiting for me to leave so they could do this. Does that sound nuts?”
“Not in the least.”
“And tonight there was a break in the pattern. I went out to dinner with you.” A look of sudden realization came over her face. “The men! Remember the two men, the ones who were in such a hurry right before we got here? They must have seen us coming and ran out before they could finish whatever they were here for. Oh!”
She stood abruptly, rushed to the smaller of the two bedrooms. Will followed. “Don’t touch anything before the cops get here.”
She knelt in front of the bed, lifted the spread and reached under. “I have to get Anthony.”
“Anthony?”
“My baby.” After a moment, she pulled out a highly protesting small black kitten with white paws, shivering and emitting tiny, pitiful little mews. Instead of rising again, Lou sat on the floor, leaned back against the bed and, cradling the terrified animal in her arms, murmured comforting words in a low, soothing voice.
Gazing down on the picture the two made, Will was oddly moved. The woman was something else; her place had been invaded, but she had put that aside to take care of a small, helpless animal.
The sound of heavy footsteps on the outside stairs was followed by a loud rapping on the door. “It’s Kevin Miller!”
“Kevin?” Will asked as he helped Lou to her feet and they made their way toward the front of the house.
“He’s our police chief.”
Will opened the door and sure enough, one of his buddies from high school stood there, wearing chinos and a dark blue sweatshirt with the legend Police Do It In Handcuffs scrawled across his ample chest. “Will?” he said, surprise on his round face. “Hey.”
The two men shook hands. “Kev.”
Kevin’s short hair was beginning to gray and his gut was somewhat more pronounced than it had been back in their school jock days, but he hadn’t changed much. He was still placid-looking and good-natured. He stepped inside, followed by a youthful uniformed cop. The rookie officer was introduced as Jack Kingman.
“How you doing, Dr. Lou?” Kevin asked.
She shrugged. “Not great.”
He perused the room, nodded. “So I see.” He turned to the kid. “Check the place out.”
“I already did,” Will offered. “No one’s here.”
“Not too smart.”
He shrugged. “I needed to make sure Lou was safe.”
“Check anyway,” Kevin told Kingman. “You know the drill, don’t touch anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And please,” Lou added, “the clinic downstairs? I need to know everything’s okay there.”
Kevin looked at the rookie. “Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
After the young man took off, Kevin tugged a notebook and pen from his back pocket, and told Lou to sit on the part of the couch that was still cushioned. Kevin then pulled up a wooden chair from the dining room table and sat in front of her.
As Will perched on the arm of the couch, Kevin asked Lou, “Can you talk to me now?” When she nodded, he said, “Tell me what you know, from the beginning.”
She did so—the feeling of being followed the past few days, the men rushing down the street as she and Will came up, opening her door to discover the place had been thoroughly trashed.
“Anything taken?” Kevin asked, jotting down notes.
“I haven’t really had time to look around, but not as far as I can tell.”
“Any idea why they’d pick you or your place?”
“Not a one.”
“You got any valuables here?”
“Not a thing. Kevin, I swear I can’t think of any reason for this, none at all.”
The rookie cop returned. “All clear up here, sir.”
“Check the clinic now.”
“Yes, sir.”
He left by the front door and Kevin returned his attention to Lou. “So, you think you’ve been under some kind of scrutiny and that the two men who nearly knocked you guys down are connected to that. Do you know that, or just think it?” He framed the question neutrally, but Will could see the skepticism behind it.
“I think it.”
“Okay, then. Any enemies?”
“Me?” She shook her head again. “Honestly, I have nothing of value and no enemies.”
“Old boyfriends?”
“No one of any consequence. An ex-husband who I haven’t seen in years—he’s remarried and happily, so I hear. He lives out west in Oregon.”
Will mused aloud. “They were looking for something, don’t you think, Kev?”
He nodded. “Money, probably, or something they could pawn.”
“If they were,” Lou said, “they were clean out of luck. I mean, what with student loans, the mortgage, then setting up the clinic, Mom and I only recently got out of the red. All the furniture you see here is from thrift shops, with Mom working her magic on them. The only thing I can think of is some silver. You know, a few