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“The bullets?” the doctor asked, and turned. “Why?”
“Sometimes we check them for prints,” he said. “Casings, too. But revolvers don’t lose them. It’s for ballistics matching reports.”
“Oh.”
“You know. We match the bullet to the gun.”
That made sense. She didn’t know that. She had no idea. How would she? The doctor nodded. “Smart,” she said, and hoped this would not be one of those times. But what could she do or say to stop them? She looked around and changed the subject.
“Man, it’s freezing. Can we go back in?”
“Sure,” said Moy.
“I was asleep. Sorry for the bare feet and bedhead.” She led the officers back around the pool, away from the pool house.
“Got something here,” McKay said, and stopped. “Is this scat? No…” He knelt and shined his light into the grass. It was a hamburger patty. And another and a third. And more pretzels. “Someone dropped a couple of burgers. There’s about four or five them here…”
“Really?” The doctor crossed to look.
“You guys barbecue out here today?”
She was at a loss and shook her head. “Um, no. But maybe the gardeners? They eat lunch on the job sometimes.”
“Yeah, these are fresh.”
“I guess that’s why the coyotes came. I’ll call them in the morning. Make sure they come back and do a quick sweep. I don’t want any more critters back here.” The doctor felt confused and tired. She was done with this visit, and hoped they were, too. It was almost two in the morning.
She led them back in, through the kitchen, and past Bandit, who stood at the basement door barking, cone on his head.
The doctor panicked. Where was Jeanine? She was nowhere in sight. Where had she gone? She had already bandaged his leg.
“Bandit,” she said to him. “Back in the kitchen.”
“What’s in here?” Moy stopped and asked.
“The basement.”
“I’d like to check it.”
“Sure,” said the doctor, trying her best to remain calm. “Bandit, back. Back, back.” She opened the door. “Watch your step,” she said a little loudly, trying to warn the three below. “The steps are steep and the light is—the light is sometimes out. There’s only one bulb. Sometimes I need to change the bulb. I’ll stay up here. I never go down. It bothers my allergies.” Another random lie.
The stairs and the basement itself were pitch black.
Please be hiding well, she thought. There were places to hide. Behind the freezer or moving boxes. Behind the washing machine and dryer. There was even a closet.
At the bottom of the stairs, Moy aimed his flashlight in every corner. The doctor held her breath and waited.
Bandit kept barking.
“Shut it, Bandit. Enough,” she whispered, losing patience and holding the dog by the scruff of its neck. “Where’s your collar?” How had Bandit lost his collar?
“Maybe mold?” Moy said, turning, and heading back up. “Have you checked for mold?”
Dr. Parks sighed with relief. “Um…” she said, grasping for lies and conversation, casual, easy. “Yes. We had a bleach thing done. Didn’t work. Maybe it’s dust. Mildew. Who knows.” She closed the door and led them down the hall and out.
In the circle, Moy and McKay climbed into the cruiser as the doctor walked down the hill to the gate pad and buzzed them through.
“Thanks!” she called, and waved. “Thanks again!”
