Not Quite Perfect
Page 52
The officers exchanged glances. “If your opinion on the subject changes, or you come up with someone you think might be responsible, we’d appreciate your cooperation.”
“I’m happy to cooperate, Officer . . .”
“Taylor,” the senior officer reminded her.
“Officer Taylor. You can understand my position. I have a long list of clients, none of which know where I live unless I missed one of them following me home, and I cannot simply hand out their names. I might not be a doctor, but I hold the same ideals of client confidentiality.”
“Even if one of them destroyed your home?” the second officer asked.
“If I believed one of my clients was involved, I’d happily give you their name.” She heard Glen grunt behind her. “I’d have to have more than one upset event to justify breaching my ethics.”
“Someone broke into your house!” Officer Taylor said once again.
Walt stepped forward. “I have to agree with Mary on this. And I am a doctor. I tick off a lot of patients when they come to my ER wanting something I’m not going to give. Drug seekers, hypochondriacs, psych patients wanting meds. Shelling out an endless list of names will simply have my license suspended. If Mary doesn’t have a name to give you . . . a viable threat . . . she doesn’t.”
Mary welcomed the voice of reason, even if Glen appeared to steam on the outside of the conversation.
Officer Taylor put the pad of paper he held in his hand back into his breast pocket and stood. “Okay. We need you to go through your house and tell us if anything is missing.”
Mary ignored the feeling of liquid in her knees and stood.
Chapter Nineteen
Watching her walk back into her house brought physical pain to Glen’s chest.
Mary held her chin high, pushed through the plastic a second time, and managed not to look like she’d been sucker punched in the gut like she had when they’d arrived an hour before.
“Do we know how they got in?” she asked as she picked up a lamp and put it upright on a table.
“Forced entry from the back.”
“I’m surprised my neighbors didn’t hear this happening.”
“We already questioned them. They said they heard a few things after midnight, but with all the workers you’ve had around, they ignored it and went back to bed.”
Officer Taylor’s remote radio held a continual feed of noise as Mary walked around her condo setting her belongings upright. It was as if she was cleaning as she went.
“I assume you’ve had someone in here dusting for fingerprints?” Glen asked.
“We have. We concentrated on the point of entry, the bathroom upstairs, and the car.”
Mary stood abruptly. “My car?”
Another round of cops looking at each other, and Walt checking out his shoes, gave Glen another pull in his gut.
Without words, Mary marched toward the door to her garage from the kitchen. The fluorescent lights flickered to life, revealing the damage.
The hood was open, splashes of dark powder revealed where the police had looked for the culprit’s prints. Scratch marks, as if the car had been keyed, ran the length of her compact car. From where Glen stood, it appeared as if someone pulled plugs and belts from the engine just to create damage, and two of the four tires were flat.
“Why not just steal it?” Mary asked.
“You said it yourself. This is personal,” Officer Taylor said. “I’ll be surprised if you find anything missing.”
Mary twisted back into the condo with forceful strides. Unlike the first trip through the living room, when she carefully picked things up and set them back down, she shoved her hands into the mess and searched. She found a set of keys and tossed them on the counter. “Extra car keys.”
She spun in a circle, gave up on the kitchen, and marched up the stairs.
Back in her bedroom she used her foot and kicked through the clothing on the floor. There was a picture of a middle-aged woman and Mary in a cap and gown. The glass was broken, but the image was unscathed.
Glen’s eyes found the bathroom mirror, the word scribbled there burned into his brain. Mary ran around the space on autopilot. She sifted through jewelry, picked out a few things, and set them aside. “The only real pieces I have are still here.”
Glen fisted his hands. He’d feel a whole lot better if she found something missing.
The next trip was to her home office.
“Son of a bitch.” Mary’s words were angry. And considering how seldom she cussed, they struck home.
The room mimicked the rest of the house.
“We dusted in here, too. In case a client of yours is responsible.”
“This will take time to go through. But if they were looking for something, joke is on them.”
“How so?” Officer Taylor asked.
“I shred my notes after I enter them into my computer.”
They all looked at the upright computer.
“Passwords and encryption make it difficult for just anyone to access.”
“It didn’t stop someone from trashing the space,” Glen said.
Mary stepped over a pile of papers spread all over the floor and reached into one of the drawers on her desk in search of something. When it appeared she didn’t find what she was looking for, she knelt down and sifted through the mess. She found an envelope and looked inside. “I had some cash in here.” She kept sifting and shook her head.
“How much?” Officer Taylor asked.
“I’m happy to cooperate, Officer . . .”
“Taylor,” the senior officer reminded her.
“Officer Taylor. You can understand my position. I have a long list of clients, none of which know where I live unless I missed one of them following me home, and I cannot simply hand out their names. I might not be a doctor, but I hold the same ideals of client confidentiality.”
“Even if one of them destroyed your home?” the second officer asked.
“If I believed one of my clients was involved, I’d happily give you their name.” She heard Glen grunt behind her. “I’d have to have more than one upset event to justify breaching my ethics.”
“Someone broke into your house!” Officer Taylor said once again.
Walt stepped forward. “I have to agree with Mary on this. And I am a doctor. I tick off a lot of patients when they come to my ER wanting something I’m not going to give. Drug seekers, hypochondriacs, psych patients wanting meds. Shelling out an endless list of names will simply have my license suspended. If Mary doesn’t have a name to give you . . . a viable threat . . . she doesn’t.”
Mary welcomed the voice of reason, even if Glen appeared to steam on the outside of the conversation.
Officer Taylor put the pad of paper he held in his hand back into his breast pocket and stood. “Okay. We need you to go through your house and tell us if anything is missing.”
Mary ignored the feeling of liquid in her knees and stood.
Chapter Nineteen
Watching her walk back into her house brought physical pain to Glen’s chest.
Mary held her chin high, pushed through the plastic a second time, and managed not to look like she’d been sucker punched in the gut like she had when they’d arrived an hour before.
“Do we know how they got in?” she asked as she picked up a lamp and put it upright on a table.
“Forced entry from the back.”
“I’m surprised my neighbors didn’t hear this happening.”
“We already questioned them. They said they heard a few things after midnight, but with all the workers you’ve had around, they ignored it and went back to bed.”
Officer Taylor’s remote radio held a continual feed of noise as Mary walked around her condo setting her belongings upright. It was as if she was cleaning as she went.
“I assume you’ve had someone in here dusting for fingerprints?” Glen asked.
“We have. We concentrated on the point of entry, the bathroom upstairs, and the car.”
Mary stood abruptly. “My car?”
Another round of cops looking at each other, and Walt checking out his shoes, gave Glen another pull in his gut.
Without words, Mary marched toward the door to her garage from the kitchen. The fluorescent lights flickered to life, revealing the damage.
The hood was open, splashes of dark powder revealed where the police had looked for the culprit’s prints. Scratch marks, as if the car had been keyed, ran the length of her compact car. From where Glen stood, it appeared as if someone pulled plugs and belts from the engine just to create damage, and two of the four tires were flat.
“Why not just steal it?” Mary asked.
“You said it yourself. This is personal,” Officer Taylor said. “I’ll be surprised if you find anything missing.”
Mary twisted back into the condo with forceful strides. Unlike the first trip through the living room, when she carefully picked things up and set them back down, she shoved her hands into the mess and searched. She found a set of keys and tossed them on the counter. “Extra car keys.”
She spun in a circle, gave up on the kitchen, and marched up the stairs.
Back in her bedroom she used her foot and kicked through the clothing on the floor. There was a picture of a middle-aged woman and Mary in a cap and gown. The glass was broken, but the image was unscathed.
Glen’s eyes found the bathroom mirror, the word scribbled there burned into his brain. Mary ran around the space on autopilot. She sifted through jewelry, picked out a few things, and set them aside. “The only real pieces I have are still here.”
Glen fisted his hands. He’d feel a whole lot better if she found something missing.
The next trip was to her home office.
“Son of a bitch.” Mary’s words were angry. And considering how seldom she cussed, they struck home.
The room mimicked the rest of the house.
“We dusted in here, too. In case a client of yours is responsible.”
“This will take time to go through. But if they were looking for something, joke is on them.”
“How so?” Officer Taylor asked.
“I shred my notes after I enter them into my computer.”
They all looked at the upright computer.
“Passwords and encryption make it difficult for just anyone to access.”
“It didn’t stop someone from trashing the space,” Glen said.
Mary stepped over a pile of papers spread all over the floor and reached into one of the drawers on her desk in search of something. When it appeared she didn’t find what she was looking for, she knelt down and sifted through the mess. She found an envelope and looked inside. “I had some cash in here.” She kept sifting and shook her head.
“How much?” Officer Taylor asked.
