Volume 3
Chapter 1
Rushing across the lawn, I slam my palms into the front door and come to a halt. “Hello?”
I don’t know why I call out. I’m half hoping to hear someone answer back, but the only sound that greets me is the hum of the fridge. That’s when I see it. The bookshelves in my living room are neat and orderly, but the books aren’t right. They were moved. It doesn’t make any sense. Something has to be missing, stolen.
I walk into the room and pivot on my heel, taking it in. Everything is almost the way I had it, but not quite. The hairs on the back of my neck rise and I can’t shake off the feeling that someone was here. Someone went through my stuff. Swallowing hard, I walk over toward my desk and see a drawer on the floor, the contents spilled out. Every muscle in my body is corded tight as I lean over and reach for the white wooden drawer.
“Don’t touch it!” K’Teal’s voice makes me jump.
I stagger away from the desk and nearly fall on my ass. My heart slams into my chest as I try to find my breath again. “What are you doing in here?”
He cocks his neck before shoving his hands into his pockets and frowning. “I called the cops, Abbs. Some fool broke into your house and you’re all walking around like it’s okay. Fuck that. What if he’s still here?”
“He’s not!” I round on him. The man is nearly a foot taller than me, so I can’t scream in his face no matter how much I want to. “No one is here, and the cops aren’t going to care about a spilled drawer and some books!”
“What books? They look fine to me.” K’Teal walks over to the shelf and points at a spine. “Hey, I know this one. I figured you’d have all brainy books, not kid stuff. Is that, like, Peter Pan? Why does it say Peter and Wendy?”
I groan, not even trying to hide my annoyance. “It’s a first edition. My best friend gave it to me. Don’t touch it.”
K’Teal jerks his hands away and holds them up, palms facing me. “No need to be violent about it.”
My eye twitches. “Just don’t touch it.” What am I going to do? Twice in one day. The cops are going to kill me.
K’Teal looks at the rest of the spines on the bookcase, strolling along with his hands shoved into his pockets. “Why would someone break in and move your shit around?”
I shrug and walk over to the couch, sitting down hard before burying my face in my hands. “I don’t know. A joke?”
“Someone hates you, babe. This is nasty, all screwing with your head and shit. You sure there’s nothing missing?” He tugs off his ballcap, smooths his corn colored hair, and then slips the hat back in place, backwards.
I don’t look up. I don’t have to. I can see his movement out of the corner of my eye. “I doubt it. It’s going to be the same as last time. A few things out of place, but nothing missing.”
K’Teal’s voice rises an octave, “This happened before? Someone is fucking with you, girl. That’s not cool. Not one bit.” When I glance up, K’Teal isn’t trying to hide his anger. He’s ripped his hat off his head. He’s twisting it in his palms. He abruptly stops, slaps it against his leg, and points it at me when he speaks. “We need to get back at those mo’fos. You can’t be letting people step on you like this. Ain’t cool, dog.”
Sighing, I look up at him. “I don’t know who—” before I can finish my sentence, the cops arrive.
Chapter 2
“Ms. Sabba? Are you all right?” It’s Jane’s voice carrying through the house.
I want to sink into the couch and die. I make a snap decision and I’m on my feet, hoping K’Teal doesn’t screw me over. “Yeah, I’m in here. Hey, listen.” I round the corner of the living room and enter the foyer. “I didn’t call this in. My driver didn’t realize the glass was broken this morning—he called it in. I’m fine. Nothing is wrong here.”
Jane watches me closely, her frown makes her square jaw lock in place. “Is that so?”
K’Teal is behind me, his hands all over the place when he speaks. “Shit, Abbs. I didn’t know this was from this morning. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Jane sweeps her dead gaze over K’Teal and asks, “Boyfriend?”
“No,” I can’t help it, I make a face that says she must have hit her head to think such a thing. “Uber driver.”
“That POS sitting at the curb?” Jane asks questions in half sentences. It’s annoying, but it’s also hard to not answer.
“It’s mine, dog. And she’s the best. Ain’t no POS.” K’Teal answers a few questions for Jane before she walks through the house.
She scribbles onto a notepad, her expression dead. She finally turns back to me. “Is there anything else you want to report?”
“No. I’m sorry to call you out twice over the same thing.”
Jane stares at me, then K’Teal. He doesn’t say anything, so she turns to leave. Her eyes fixate on the new missing pane of glass. “I thought there was only one broken window.”
“Me, too,” I lie. “I didn’t notice this one until sunrise. It was cracked in the frame. When I touched it, it fell out and shattered.”
Jane listens and nods. Makes a note. She can tell I’m lying, but she can’t figure out why. “Ms. Sabba, get that glass replaced right away. We don’t want to waste resources sending officers out when they’re not needed.” Her dark eyes hold my gaze as she chastises me.
I take it and nod in agreement. “I will. I’m sorry about this.”
Her eyes scan the door frame as she walks through, before glancing down at the shattered blue glass on the sidewalk. She says nothing, strides back to her patrol car and sits there for a moment before pulling away.
K’Teal is in the living room, picking up the contents of the drawer and putting it back where it goes in the desk.
“Thank you,” I say from the other side of the small room. Sunlight cuts through the front windows, illuminating the space.
The young man’s face is lacking his usual animation. “You think the cops won’t help you? Not that I blame you, but still. You’re a chick living alone.”
My face scrunches before I can hide my shock. “How’d you know that?”
He shrugs. Looks around. “No photos of a guy. No dog. No cats. You have pictures out, but nothing of people. You’re a loner, chica. No worries about that. It’s all good. What I can’t understand is why someone would break in here and mess with you like this, and then you don’t bother reporting it.” He watches me, and for a moment I think there are more brains in that head than he lets on.
“Like I said, the cops were here this morning.”
“Right, and after a break-in, you went out with the front door wide open.” His voice drips with sarcasm. “And I might not be the brightest guy on the planet, but I was here when you left this morning. No broken window there,” he points to the empty pane, “and no open door. So, I gotta ask—are you all right? Is someone trying to hurt you?”