Read Online Every Move She Makes by Robin Burcell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robin Burcell
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beside him. Weapons of any sort tend to make a cop on the beat nervous, justifiably so. "The drawer," I mouthed. He nodded, pulled open the silverware drawer, and rested my gun on top of the forks and knives before sliding it shut. I opened the door to two of Berkeley's finest, the porch light reflecting off their wet slickers. Neither seemed happy about being out in the rain. The taller and heavier of the two peered past me, assessing the likelihood of imminent threat, while his partner spoke. "Is everything okay, ma'am?" "Fine. Now. I thought I heard someone trying to break into my kitchen. My friend, um, Lieutenant Torrance, SFPD, happened to be stopping by, and already checked it out for me." A look of respect and wariness, one cop sizing up another, passed over both officers' faces as they regarded Torrance. "Lieutenant," one said.
Torrance, looking very much the detective in his London Fog, nodded.
"I appreciate your coming out here," I put in. "Hope you weren't too inconvenienced." "No problem. You want us to check the place out?" the first officer asked. Torrance shrugged as though he didn't care, more for their benefit than mine.
"No, thanks," I said. "We're fine."
"Evening." They turned down the steps, and I heard one say "Code Four"
into the radio, letting their dispatch know it was a false alarm.
"I guess I'll get back to my car," Torrance said.
"Coffee?"
"Sure.
As I pulled the kettle from the burner, I heard the crackle of the police radio outside, followed by a knock. Exchanging glances with Torrance, I stopped what I was doing to answer the door.
"Officers?"
"Sorry to disturb you, ma'am," the shorter officer said , but dispatch says we got a second call on a prowler. Apparently your neighbor says she's pretty sure someone's hiding in her backyard." Torrance and I stood in the living room, watching through the window, though by the time a canine officer arrived, the suspect, if there was one, had plenty of opportunity to get away. Even so, we found our noses glued to the cold windowpane. Raindrops sliced through the night, piercing the light from the porch before splattering on the shiny ivy leaves beneath my partially open window. Suddenly the dog crashed through the hedge that separated my yard from the neighbor's. It barked at something below my landing.
An officer called out a command. The do halted, gave a low growl.
A laugh drifted up, then I heard the word "cat."
"Dinky gets around," Torrance commented to me.
I can't imagine the creature was too thrilled with the dog running about. I said nothing, just watched with interest, wondering when they'd end the search.
"Hey, Brooks," I heard an officer call out sharply,
"look at this." A flashlight beam swung toward the ivy below my porch, but I couldn't see what they were looking at. Another officer parted the hedge as he stepped through to my backyard. "Looks like a stocking cap."
One of them held up something dark, and from where I stood, unidentifiable. "Yep," someone answered. "Must be the suspect's." That was enough for me. I glanced at Torrance, who still watched the officers. "You can do your baby-sitting from the couch. I've had too much excitement for one night." He didn't answer right off, but after a moment he nodded. "I'm going down to see what they've got." Ten minutes later he returned, told me it was definitely a stocking cap. Part of me hoped like hell it was Scolari's cap, lost when he was on my porch talking to me on his cellular. I felt I could handle Scolari. I didn't want to think there was someone else out there. A suspect I didn't know about. Torrance called his partner, Mathis, explained what had occurred and where he was spending the night. I got a blanket and tossed it on the couch. I lived in a one bedroom apartment, so he really didn't have a choice about where to sleep. I called out good-night, and as I stepped into my bedroom and closed the door, I caught
Torrance, looking very much the detective in his London Fog, nodded.
"I appreciate your coming out here," I put in. "Hope you weren't too inconvenienced." "No problem. You want us to check the place out?" the first officer asked. Torrance shrugged as though he didn't care, more for their benefit than mine.
"No, thanks," I said. "We're fine."
"Evening." They turned down the steps, and I heard one say "Code Four"
into the radio, letting their dispatch know it was a false alarm.
"I guess I'll get back to my car," Torrance said.
"Coffee?"
"Sure.
As I pulled the kettle from the burner, I heard the crackle of the police radio outside, followed by a knock. Exchanging glances with Torrance, I stopped what I was doing to answer the door.
"Officers?"
"Sorry to disturb you, ma'am," the shorter officer said , but dispatch says we got a second call on a prowler. Apparently your neighbor says she's pretty sure someone's hiding in her backyard." Torrance and I stood in the living room, watching through the window, though by the time a canine officer arrived, the suspect, if there was one, had plenty of opportunity to get away. Even so, we found our noses glued to the cold windowpane. Raindrops sliced through the night, piercing the light from the porch before splattering on the shiny ivy leaves beneath my partially open window. Suddenly the dog crashed through the hedge that separated my yard from the neighbor's. It barked at something below my landing.
An officer called out a command. The do halted, gave a low growl.
A laugh drifted up, then I heard the word "cat."
"Dinky gets around," Torrance commented to me.
I can't imagine the creature was too thrilled with the dog running about. I said nothing, just watched with interest, wondering when they'd end the search.
"Hey, Brooks," I heard an officer call out sharply,
"look at this." A flashlight beam swung toward the ivy below my porch, but I couldn't see what they were looking at. Another officer parted the hedge as he stepped through to my backyard. "Looks like a stocking cap."
One of them held up something dark, and from where I stood, unidentifiable. "Yep," someone answered. "Must be the suspect's." That was enough for me. I glanced at Torrance, who still watched the officers. "You can do your baby-sitting from the couch. I've had too much excitement for one night." He didn't answer right off, but after a moment he nodded. "I'm going down to see what they've got." Ten minutes later he returned, told me it was definitely a stocking cap. Part of me hoped like hell it was Scolari's cap, lost when he was on my porch talking to me on his cellular. I felt I could handle Scolari. I didn't want to think there was someone else out there. A suspect I didn't know about. Torrance called his partner, Mathis, explained what had occurred and where he was spending the night. I got a blanket and tossed it on the couch. I lived in a one bedroom apartment, so he really didn't have a choice about where to sleep. I called out good-night, and as I stepped into my bedroom and closed the door, I caught
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