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I cleared my throat and quickened my steps, making him chuckle.
“You can run, but you can’t hide,” he said, catching up.
“Believe me,” I said. “I’m not hiding. But I figure the faster we can do this the sooner I get tacos and mirror sex. Maybe we can still redeem part of our Doug-free weekend.”
“I’m sure we can find a few free minutes between murder and tacos.”
“Bethany Wildes isn’t our tenant, is she?” I asked.
“No,” Jack said. “She’s next door to one of our units though.”
“Handy,” I said, and we crossed the street.
The buildings on this block had been old and vacant and in disrepair for at least a decade. They’d originally been two stories of orange brick, and various warehousing and industrial businesses had occupied the space over the years. But some new developer had moved in with a big vision and painted the ugly orange brick white, added a bunch of cedar posts and black hanging gaslights, and added a whole third floor.
There was a private entrance to the residential area at the back of the building through a gated courtyard. Jack punched in the code and the decorative iron gate opened.
“Handy that you know the code,” I said. “Now we can surprise her.”
“People love surprises,” Jack said.
“You keep saying that,” I said softly, “But I don’t think that’s true after a certain age. Surprises can lead to heart attacks or getting punched in the face.”
Jack’s lips twitched as he opened the back door and we walked up the stairs to the second floor.
“This must be fun to move furniture up and down,” I said.
“One of the many reasons we live in a house instead of an apartment,” Jack commented. “This is her in 2A.”
Jack knocked on the door and we waited several minutes with no response, but I could feel someone on the other side of the door.
Jack knocked again and said, “This is Sheriff Lawson and Dr. Graves. We have a few more questions to ask you about David Sowers,” and the door opened quickly.
“Ssh,” Bethany said. Her face was red and swollen from crying, and she’d changed out of the red dress and only wore her bathrobe. “I do not want the neighbors to hear. Come in, come in.”
I couldn’t help my surprise at hearing her thick Slavic accent. And with her face scrubbed free of makeup she looked more child than woman. I was starting to have a bad feeling about all of this.
“Are you Bethany Wildes?” Jack asked.
“Yes,” she said, quickly, wrapping her arms protectively around her waist.
Jack nodded. “Maybe we could sit down?” His tone was friendly, and he was trying to put her at ease, but I wasn’t sure a woman like Bethany would ever be put at ease by a man.
“We know this has been a difficult night for you,” I said gently, taking a step in front of Jack so her focus would be on me. I could see the fear in her eyes. I looked at Jack and said, “Maybe you could get her a bottle of water.”
“There…” Bethany swallowed hard. “There is water in kitchen. In refrigerator.”
Jack nodded and stepped out of the room, and I saw Bethany visibly give a sigh of relief.
“Your home is beautiful,” I said, taking a seat next to her on an overstuffed white couch. The robe dwarfed her and she curled her legs beneath her so only her pale hands and face were visible. She’d obviously showered as her blond hair was still wet and slicked back from her face. Her light gray eyes were large and scared and confused, and seeing her in this moment made me hate David Sowers and the men like him who preyed on the innocent.
It wasn’t a large apartment, but the old brick had been painted white and there were exposed wooden beams and industrial-looking pipes on the ceiling. She’d used bright colorful pillows and afghans in blues and greens and golds to soften the harshness of the white.
She looked around as if seeing it for the first time. “Yes,” she said.
“How long have you been in America?” I asked.
“Not long,” she said. “Few months.”
