Glancing toward the yellow house, Julian trudged across the road into the small yard. Chickens squawked and fluttered as he entered, scrambling away to safety. The quiet pre-dawn morning was unsettling. Stepping onto the concrete slab of the porch, Julian bent over to examine the lock on the door. Standard deadbolt. Easy enough to pick, even in the darkness. A minute later, he was twisting the knob slowly as the door creaked open.
Julian entered the dark room. Sliding his foot along the floor, he eased the door closed behind him. Moonlight shining through the open side windows illuminated the tight space. A quilt, discarded needles, and swatches of fabric littered the coffee table in front of a worn, patchwork sofa. The house was the shotgun variety with a single hallway. He could see only one door to the left before the hallway opened up into a medium-sized kitchen in the back.
A small tray rested on a stand next to the couch. An empty plate with remnants of food lay in the center with a paper towel crumbled up on the side. Julian scanned the room for any sign that there could be more than one inhabitant of the home. From what he could discern, it seemed she lived alone.
Stalking toward the single door that likely led to her bedroom, Julian paused. The door was slightly open. Pressing a palm on the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside.
He eased closer to the bedside table. A box of matches rested next to an old-fashioned lantern. Sliding the box open, Julian grabbed a match and struck it against the side. A yellow flame burst from the end. Lighting the lantern, he peered at the woman sleeping in the bed. It was definitely Uma Fischer.
Julian sat near the end of the bed and grabbed Uma’s ankle through the sheets. Squeezing slowly, he waited. Uma squirmed, then screamed as she awoke and found herself not alone in the bedroom. Eyes wide with terror, she stared at Julian. Frozen in place, she blinked several times before a look of recognition passed through her eyes.
“Julian? Is that you? What are you doing here?” Uma asked. Her fingers moved slowly toward her throat, gliding across a key hanging from a chain around her neck. She squeezed the small key, then slipped it underneath her nightgown, out of sight.
“I need information.”
“What kind of information? What are you talking about?”
“You paid Farouk Essa fifty thousand dollars to leave Priscilla Dumay unattended at the end of the trial,” said Julian.
“No, I didn’t. Who told you I did that?” Uma stammered. She recoiled toward the headboard, pulling the sheets to cover her body.
“Farouk Essa told the cops you did,” Julian said, pausing to let his words sink in.
Uma was quiet. Her hands fidgeted with the frayed ends of the blanket covering her body.
“Whoever he is, he must have me mistaken for someone else,” Uma whispered.
“And I guess the home security footage he handed over to the police showing you on his doorstep is wrong,” Julian asked. “And the police facial recognition software that matched your driver’s license photo is wrong too.”
“How are you even here right now? Aren’t you supposed to be in Tiverton? I could call the cops and tell them where you are,” Uma said, shifting in the bed. The demure innocence replaced with vengeful desperation.
Her face grew pale as her eyes darted around the room. Was she looking for a weapon? The thought that she could overpower him was laughable.
“Do it. The cops would love to get a phone call from the woman they’re trying to find. By the time they show up, I’d be long gone, and you’d be arrested,” Julian said.
Uma glared at him.
“Go ahead Uma, make the call.”
Uma sighed, sniffing away her tears. “What do you want from me?”
“Already told you. I want to know why you bribed the guards to leave Dumay unattended,” Julian said.
“I didn’t know what the money was for. I was told to deliver the package to an address at a certain time and that’s what I did,” Uma said.
“Who told you to do that?”
Uma avoided his gaze. “I can’t tell you.”
“That’s too bad. Maybe the cops can get you to tell them after I call in this anonymous tip on your location.” Julian took his cell phone from his pocket.
“You can’t do that. You don’t understand what’s at stake here,” Uma pleaded.
“Let me tell you what’s at fucking stake here. The cops are circling Mena right now because they think she hired you to bribe those officers. They are building a case against her as my co-conspirator, and I’ll be damned if I let that happen.”
“Mena? Why do they think that?” Uma asked.
“Because of those phone calls between the two of you. You’re trying to frame her, make her look guilty—”
