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I take a deep breath and brace myself for her to argue. Even in her current frazzled state, she’s bound to protest. “We need to grab some stuff so you can stay with me tonight. You’re for damn sure not staying in this apartment.”
“You don’t have to take care of me, Andreas. I can figure something out. I don’t want to intrude on your personal space.”
My offer brings on the tears again, and I grab her face gently and make her look at me.
“Listen, you can stay a few days, and I’ll help you figure something more permanent out, okay? I’m barely home during the day, and when I am, I’m locked away in my home office like a hermit. At least stay tonight. We’ll figure everything else out in the morning.”
“Fine.”
Frantically, she tries to clean herself up before the cops get here. She walks to the review mirror of her car and tries to fix her makeup, but the rubbing makes her eyes redder.
“Are you okay?”
She takes a deep breath and says, “I’m okay. I feel a little numb now that I’ve cried it out. I want this to be over with, and I never want to go back inside that apartment.”
The conversation ends abruptly when, finally, blue and red lights come into view, illuminating the parking lot with a strange light, and two cop cars stop in front of us. A short, stout man with a mustache gets out of the first car, and a tall, muscular Hispanic man steps out of the second car.
The shorter man walks toward us and asks, “Are you Alana?”
Alana stands and straightens her spine before answering, “Yes. My name is Alana Meyer.”
“Can you take us through what happened, ma’am?” the other officer asks her.
Alana nods, clears her throat, and starts talking. She tells them we had been out to dinner. After I dropped her at her front door, she walked into the house and began to change and clean up her living room. She quickly put two and two together and realized that someone had broken into her apartment for the third time. This time was different, though; they had taken her bras and underwear.
“The first two times I came home with my door open, I thought the door handle and lock were faulty or something. Now, I know someone has been going in when I’m not here.” Her eyes well up again, and seeing her so upset makes me feel fucking violent.
“We’ll need to inspect your apartment. This is Officer Mathews, and I’m Officer Marshall. We’re going to follow you up upstairs, and I promise we’ll treat your apartment with the utmost care and discretion. Got it?” the shorter cop asks.
“Yes,” Alana answers.
We walk past Officer Marshall, who is already on the phone with someone else. He walks in front of us and stops in front of the door, motioning for Officer Mathews to open the door. They do, and I see inside her apartment for the first time.
The apartment is small but cozy, and I can tell she has put a lot of love into it in the small time she’s lived here.
She shows the cops around, and they begin their investigation. Alana and I stand by the door while we wait for them to get done. We’re both questioned by the police for a second time and before we know it, it’s after midnight.
The cops finally leave with a promise that they’ll be in touch. Now that the apartment is empty except for us, Alana and I both collapse in exhaustion on her couch. I let out a long sigh and turn to face her. She looks so tired; I can see how emotionally drained she is now that this whole thing is over.
“We should probably get going,” I whisper as I stand up from the couch and begin packing a bag of clothes for her.
She moves from the couch and takes the plastic sack from my hands. “You don’t have to pack my bag for me. And anyway, I have a backpack around here somewhere that I usually use for overnight visits.” She searches for a few minutes and lets out an exasperated sigh. “I swear I just used it the other day. What the fuck?”
“It’s alright. I’ll just carry your stuff. Just pick out three or four days’ worth of clothes, and we’ll worry about packing everything else up in a few days.”
I’ve already decided she’ll never sleep another night in this fucking apartment. It’s not safe, and I don’t want anything to happen to her.
She walks around and grabs what she thinks she’ll need and passes them into my waiting hands. Then, she grabs her car keys and cell phone charger, and we walk outside. She locks her apartment, and we head downstairs.
“Just ride with me tonight. I’ll bring you back to get your car tomorrow.” And with that, we begin the drive to my house.
33
Chapter Thirty Three
Andreas
The drive to my house is silent except for the sound of Alana’s deep breathing. Her head lulls over on my shoulder, and she’s fast asleep. We pull into the driveway, and I maneuver out of the car as carefully as possible, cradling her limp body in my arms. Carefully, I walk her up the stairs and into the spare bedroom to lie her on the bed and tuck her in.
