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He had to get close to hear what the officers were saying. It took a lot of effort, and the process was painstaking. One step forward, two steps back. Staying in the shadows. Inside, but also, out.
It’s a very common thing, he hears the officer explaining to the man of the house. That statement had made him laugh, though he doesn’t know why. His laughter caught the attention of the old woman, and now he thinks he mi
ght have to kill her. But then, maybe not. Old people are supposed to be forgetful and wise, so if she knows what’s good for her, she’d better either forget or pretend.
The officer said break-ins are par for the course this time of the year. With the holidays and all. The officer asked what was taken, and the father told him nothing, but he said it in a way that seemed suspicious. Any cop worth his salt ought to be able to see that the man was lying.
The woman did better, even though she looked nervous. Her eyes were shifty, and she chewed at her bottom lip. He knows those are tells; you learn these kind of things if you watch a person long enough. And her tells were easy. He knows there’s something she isn’t saying. But he can’t decide what, because he doesn’t know who has broken into their house, only that this time it wasn’t him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
This is the worst thing that could have happened. It hits like a sucker punch. It’s not good. Not good at all. When the girls and I arrived home, I felt it. Hairs stood on the back of my neck. The familiar wave of nausea that I’ve grown more and more accustomed to over the past several weeks washed over me. And I just knew. I immediately dialed Greg, who thankfully was already on his way home. He seemed unconcerned, saying that the alarm company had not contacted him and surely they would have if someone had tripped it.
They hadn’t contacted me, either, but it didn’t matter. Something was off, and that something was keeping me from my own house. I said I’d wait for him in the driveway. Naomi and Blair and I hung out in the car, and eventually, when my mental list of games to play ran thin, I handed over my phone to keep them occupied.
It took nearly a half hour for Greg to arrive. In that time, I almost called the police a dozen times. I was sure the back gate hadn’t been open when I left this morning. Finally he arrived and went around to check it out.
He returned quickly, and with a grim expression, he relayed that someone had broken a square pane of glass out of our patio door. He could not understand why the alarm had not sounded. We have glass breaks. I had to stifle the impulse to laugh or cry, possibly both. Obviously an alarm would not stop Jack Mooney or any other criminal who possessed a little intention and even the slightest bit of determination. We should have invested in cameras when it was suggested. Then we’d have evidence. We could have potentially called the police while the situation was in progress. Then Mooney might be in jail, and I might sleep tonight.
Instead, what we have is a terrible situation. There are only two things missing, as far as I can tell: Our family photo that hung over the mantle, and the gun I purchased for protection.
I can’t bring myself to tell Greg. The rest of it is bad enough. I didn’t want to bring it up in front of the police, knowing that my husband would have been blindsided. I need him focused, not picking a fight. I can always report it missing later. That, and I was too distraught about what was left behind to think about what was missing. Under our Christmas tree, a single wrapped gift that neither Greg nor I were responsible for. Inside the wrapping paper? Rocky’s collar.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Greg avoids my gaze, which is how I know he is angry. I’m not offended. The feeling is mutual. Having to share a double bed with two children, while my husband stretches out in the other all alone, is not winning him any brownie points. Not only am I bitter, my nerves are raw. I haven’t slept well in weeks. I don’t feel safe in my own home, and I don’t feel safe in this hotel. I don’t feel safe anywhere. I’m steadily on the brink of losing my mind, and it wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge. Neither one of us knows where to go from here.
An impromptu staycation is not something we can afford right now, monetarily nor mentally.
The police obtained camera footage from two of our neighbors, which so far has turned up nothing. This means that Mooney had to have entered through the woods our house backs up to. To accomplish that, he would have had to scale the rock wall that lines our backyard and spans all of the backyards on our street. It seems like a feat, if all he wanted to do was to leave Rocky’s collar. It also means he would have had to have done the same when he took Rocky. Something that would have been difficult, if not impossible.
Fanning myself, it’s hot being sandwiched between two children, I realize I need to look at this differently. I need to come at it from another direction. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to see that things don’t add up.
“Can you please turn on the air?” I hiss. It’s the third time I’ve asked. Greg swears the AC smells like cigarette smoke, even though the lobby attendant has assured him this is a non-smoking room. “Or crack a window?”
“Am I allowed to do that? Are you sure it won’t let the boogeymen in?”
“I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Fine.” He flings himself out of bed and flips on the air conditioner. “It’s forty degrees outside.”
“It feels like hell in here.” Smells like it, too. Greg was right. The AC is putting out a distinctively smoky smell. Unfortunately, I’m too prideful to admit it, so the musky aroma fills the room. When Naomi complains, I snap at her. Then I curl my body around hers, inhaling the scent of shampoo from her still wet hair. “I’m sorry, baby.” The soft haze of sleep overtaking her, she folds into me and pats the arm I have wrapped around her.
I think about what Alex had said about changing a situation, by buying time and shifting the balance of power.
I am learning this is easier said than done. For one, my focus is nearly nonexistent. All I can think about is Mooney rummaging around in our home. Imagining him touching my things, and my daughters’ things…it creeps me out. Not to mention the gun and what a mess it is going to be to have to explain. If Greg is angry now, just wait. He will say this is why he was vehemently against it in the first place, lest it ends up in the hands of a criminal.
Later, the room properly smells like a nightclub. When the girls are firmly asleep, I extract myself with such stealth and precision, it is like a bad comedy portraying a cat-and-mouse burglary. I climb into bed with Greg, who pretends to be asleep. I can tell by his breathing that he isn’t. So I lay there for a long while, waiting for him to speak to me, to pick a fight, to initiate sex, whatever. Anything but the silent treatment. Inevitably, when I hear the familiar pattern of inhalation and exhalation, I scooch out of bed, grab the key card and my laptop, and head to the hotel dining area.
The lights are off, but the coffee is on. I pour myself a cup and take a seat. A night attendant cleans the glass on the front windows. I find the screeching comforting.
Opening my computer, I search through the details I’ve dug up on the case, hoping that reminding myself of what Mooney did might bring some clarity about what he might do next.
I scan the court documents and then read each page thoroughly one by one, practically memorizing the words on the screen. By the second pass through, I am numb, and I realize that I am not going to find anything I don’t already know.
It is several days before I hear from Alex. Radio silence makes me nervous, not only because I need to sell him a house, but also because I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and my hair has started coming out in clumps in the shower.
We don’t stay at the Holiday Inn a second night. We get the window fixed and set an appointment to have a security system we can’t afford installed, and that is that.
