Page 35 of Falling For You

Birdie scrambled off the floor and followed her. Barb squeezed my shoulder on her way past.

I stood and walked down the hall.

The closet door opened without a sound. The yarn was where I'd left it. I took it off the shelf and held it in my hands.

CHAPTER 14

Halloween

ANDY

Halloween night split Las Vegas in two.

On the Strip, it was chaos. Drunk tourists in costumes already falling apart by sundown staggering between casinos, bachelorette parties in matching bodysuits taking over entire sidewalks, and at least one guy every year who thought it was legal to walk down Las Vegas Boulevard dressed as a cop with a real-looking holster. Vice and the Strip detail handled that. I didn't envy them.

Off the Strip, in the neighborhoods, it was different. Porch lights on, jack-o'-lanterns glowing on front steps, kids in costumes too big for their bodies running between houses with plastic pumpkins half their size. Parents walked the sidewalks in clusters, keeping count. The streets were busier than usual but the energy was good. People smiled at uniforms instead of tensing up.

Doug and I had the residential beat. We walked the block, watched the streets, kept the uniform visible. A night where the hardest call might be a noise complaint or a teenager with too many eggs was a night I'd take. A little girl in a princess dress waved at me from her front yard. I waved back.

Dispatch sent us to an apartment complex a few blocks off West Ashmont just before nine. Burglary report. The tenant came back from a friend's house to find his place tossed.

Doug and I took the exterior stairwell up past the courtyard to the second floor. The tenant, Armand McCarthy, was pacing the living room when we arrived. He reminded me of Gino Stasio from the high-rise downtown, weeks ago. Same agitation, same restless energy.

"Is anything missing?" I asked.

Inside, the place was searched. Drawers pulled open, closet shelves cleared, boxes stacked and rifled through. The damage was thorough and methodical.

McCarthy looked around like he was running inventory in his head. Checked the bedroom. Opened a lockbox in the nightstand. It was still sealed.

"No. Nothing's missing. It's all just been moved around."

"Any damage to the door when you came home? Any sign of the lock being forced?"

"No. Door was closed. I locked it before I left."

I wrote it down. No damage to the door, just like Stasio's apartment. The lock was picked or someone had a key. Two break-ins now with the same signature: someone entering a home, searching it thoroughly, and leaving without stealing a thing.

That wasn't a burglar. A burglar takes something. I didn't know what this was yet, but the pattern was wrong.

"I'll call in property crimes." Doug was already reaching for the radio.

We waited with McCarthy until the detective arrived, walked him through the scene, and headed downstairs.

"You'd think criminals would take a night off." Doug shook his head. "It's Halloween. Go eat some candy. Rob somebody tomorrow."

"So Diana took the kids trick-or-treating tonight?"

"Yeah."

"What did she say when you said you needed to work tonight?"

"More candy for us!"

I laughed.

"Wait… wait…" He stopped. "Bathroom!" he yelled, already heading back toward the building.

"I'll wait by the cruiser!" I yelled back.