Out of breath, he slowed when he reached the double doors of her condo, immediately greeted by security. “Detective Hunt Walker to see Lottie Harlow,” he said to the attendant.
The security guard typed Hunt’s name into his system. “Hello, Detective Walker,” the man said. “You’ve been cleared to go up.”
“Thank you.” He hurriedly made it to the elevator. As he traveled up to the fifteenth floor, he fired off a text to Kieran:Won’t be at the club tonight. Something has come up.
Kieran’s reply was instant:Everything all right?
Not quite sure yet. I’ll let you know.
He didn’t wait for Kieran’s reply, shoving his phone back into his pocket as the elevator doors chimed open. Down the hallway, he spotted a uniformed cop at Lottie’s door. His stomach churned, and he walked instead of ran, like he wanted, not wanting to put the cop on alert.
“Detective Hunt Walker, Ninth Precinct,” he told the cop, offering his hand. The young cop shook his hand as Hunt continued, “I’m a friend of Ms. Harlow.”
“Yes, Detective Walker, you’ve been cleared,” the cop said, gesturing him inside through the open door. “She’s waiting for you.”
Hunt nodded his thanks and stepped into Lottie’s condo, seeing a flurry of activity. His heart thundered in his ears, sweat sliding down his spine from more than only the exertion of the run. His focus went straight to Lottie sitting on the couch, her knees against her chest as she hugged them. A quick look around her condo revealed someone had broken into her home.
Forensics was already dusting for prints on the front door and windows. Hunt noted the detective from the First Precinct sitting across from Lottie on the couch, and the other two cops—rookies, by the looks of their youth—making notes on their notepads for the obvious paperwork at the end of their shift.
“Walker,” Detective Joey Garcia, from the central robbery division, said. “This isn’t your jurisdiction.”
Hunt didn’t know Garcia personally, but they had an interwoven case once that dragged on for a couple of months. “Lottie called me,” he told Garcia, moving hastily to stand at Lottie’s side. “I’m a friend.”
Garcia’s gaze swung to Lottie. “Ah, you never said.”
“I didn’t think I had to,” she replied.
Hunt’s instincts flared. Distrust registered in her eyes. Suddenly her calling him to her condo made sense. She obviously didn’t trust the police.
And why exactly was that?
Though her lack of trust could explain why she lived in a building with such high security.
Before Garcia asked, Hunt thought it wise to say, “I’m here for support, not to get involved in the investigation.”
“Very well,” Garcia said.
Turning his focus to the person who mattered in this room, Hunt looked at Lottie. “Are you all right?”
A heaviness filled her pretty eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay. Whoever did this wasn’t here when I came home.”
“Good,” Hunt said, squeezing her shoulder.
Garcia’s gaze flicked from Hunt to Lottie and narrowed in concentration. “You didn’t hear anything when you first arrived home?”
“Nothing at all,” she said, resting her chin on her knee. “I opened the door, found it like it is now, and called the police.”
Hunt followed Lottie’s finger as she tucked her hair behind her ear. He noted the tremble, her ashen skin. He’d seen Lottie be many things, but shaken was never one of them. He might have chalked it up to fear from her condo being broken into if he didn’t know her personality.
Lottie didn’t balk at fear. She faced it head-on.
“Is there any reason why someone would break into your condo?”
“Not that I can think of,” she said, looking down to the right, her lips pursing.
Lie.
She never looked away. Not from anyone.
