Chương 4
It was Rachel.
She almost deleted it before hearing the name.
“Officer Collins, this is Rachel Carter. From yesterday. I just… I have a question about my phone. They took it as evidence, I think. I need numbers out of it for work. You don't have to call me. I know you're busy.”
Maya called.
Rachel answered on the second ring.
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“I don't know. Calling.”
“You're allowed to call.”
A pause.
“I need my boss's number.”
“Do you know the dental office name?”
“Yes.”
“Then we can solve at least that part without the phone.”
Rachel exhaled.
Maya heard motel television in the background.
“Where are you staying?”
“With family.”
It was a lie so minor Maya chose not to challenge it.
“Did someone explain how property retrieval works?”
“They explained a lot of things.”
“That usually means no.”
Rachel laughed quietly.
“I don't want to go back there.”
“You don't have to today.”
“I have work clothes there. Ethan's school stuff. My laptop. His medication.”
Maya straightened.
“What medication?”
“Allergy inhaler. He has another one in his school nurse's office.”
“Okay.”
“And Grant's not allowed there?”
“The order says he's not.”
Rachel did not respond.
Maya knew what she was asking.
“A court order doesn't create a force field.”
“No.”
“But it gives police authority to act if he violates it.”
“If we know.”
“Yes.”
“If he doesn't care.”
“Then the order still matters.”
Another silence.
Rachel finally said, “You sound like you're trying not to promise me something.”
“I am.”
That answer seemed to earn a little trust.
Maya gave her the number for a victim advocate at the prosecutor's office, explained that an officer could accompany her for a scheduled property retrieval, and told her to call 911 rather than Maya directly if Grant appeared.
Rachel thanked her.
Then, just before hanging up, she said, “Ethan keeps asking if you got your coffee.”
Maya looked toward the dried brown streak still visible in one of the dashboard vents of her SUV.
“Tell him no. Tell him he owes me three dollars.”
Rachel laughed for real that time.
“I'll tell him.”
Maya ended the call and sat at the edge of her bed.
Her apartment was quiet except for the refrigerator cycling on.
She had lived alone for six years and liked it more than she admitted. Her shoes were always where she left them. Her bathroom sink stayed dry. Nobody asked why she ate cereal at nine at night.
On the counter was an unopened birthday card from her younger brother.
She had been avoiding it because he had written her name in the same blocky handwriting he had used as a teenager, and lately ordinary family things made her tired in ways she could not explain.
She opened it.
Inside he had written, Call Mom.
Maya put the card back down.
Then she called her mother.
They talked for twelve minutes about nothing related to police work.
A leaking faucet.
Her mother's neighbor's dog.
Whether Maya still had the green sweater she hated.
It helped more than she wanted it to.
Two days later Rachel returned to the house.
Maya was not the officer assigned to the property standby. She traded with someone.
Ortega noticed.
“You cannot adopt every call.”
“I'm not adopting anything.”
“You swapped your lunch break.”
“I hate lunch.”
“You eat yogurt every day at eleven thirty.”
“That isn't lunch.”
He stared at her.
Maya picked up her jacket.
“Forty minutes.”
“You have thirty.”
At the Carter house, the Welcome mat was crooked.
Maya remembered it straight.
Rachel noticed her looking.
“Grant hates when it isn't centered.”
Then she seemed embarrassed by having said it.
Maya did not ask what else Grant hated.
The locks had not yet been changed because Rachel had learned that Grant's name remained on the lease and the landlord wanted written documentation before authorizing a rekey.
Laura had spent the morning on the phone with the property manager.
“Apparently attempted imprisonment does not qualify as a maintenance emergency,” she said.
Rachel gave her a warning look.
“What? That's what I said to them.”
“You said unlawful restraint.”
“Fine. Sorry. I used the proper nightmare terminology.”
Ethan was at school.
Rachel entered first.
Maya watched her stop in the entryway.
The cracked phone was gone, logged into evidence.
The hardwood where it had lain looked unnaturally empty.
Rachel touched her own pocket before remembering she had borrowed Laura's old phone.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to leave?”
“No.”
The word came quickly.
Rachel walked upstairs.
She moved faster with Maya behind her, almost angry about it.
In the bedroom, the chair had been placed back at the small desk after police photographed it.
Rachel stared at it.
“I bought that at a garage sale for eight dollars.”
Maya said nothing.
“I was proud of that.”
“Of the chair?”
“Of getting it for eight dollars. It was twenty-five.”
Maya leaned against the doorframe.
Rachel opened a dresser drawer and began putting clothes into a laundry basket.
“That's stupid.”
“No.”
“It is. I have a scar in my head and I'm mad he ruined a cheap chair.”
“You can be mad at both.”
Rachel folded a sweatshirt.
“He didn't start like this.”
Maya had heard that too.
She resisted the temptation to tell Rachel everyone said it.
Instead she asked, “How did he start?”
Rachel glanced at her.
“Useful.”
That answer stayed with Maya.
Grant fixed things.
The garbage disposal. Ethan's bike chain. The loose railing on the back steps. Rachel's credit score after her divorce had left her with bills she could barely manage.
He remembered trash day.
He packed Ethan's lunch when Rachel worked early.
He could be rude to waiters and gentle with old dogs.
He hated clutter, debt, lateness, and being ignored.
At first those dislikes seemed like preferences.
Later they became rules.
May you like
Rachel packed in silence for several minutes.
Maya noticed three empty spaces on the closet shelf where shoe boxes had apparently been removed.
