Read Online Your Chariot Awaits by Lorena McCourtney - Free Book Online Page B

had contact with either the door or doorframe,” Short Deputy commented. “No hair or blood.”
    I fingered my head. I didn’t feel any stream of blood, but my hair was sticky and matted over Texas. “What do you mean?”
    Tall Deputy: “It doesn’t appear you hit your head on the door. Or anywhere else on the vehicle.”
    â€œThen I must have just fallen and hit my head on the gravel.”
    â€œAre you sure you weren’t struck?”
    â€œStruck by what?”
    â€œYou didn’t see anyone?”
    â€œNo. Just Tom here, when I came to.”
    â€œShe was out cold when I found her.”
    He sounded defensive, and I was startled to realize that under the circumstances the deputies might think he was involved in my injury. Okay, Tom and I have our differences. Most people in the neighborhood have differences with Tom. He’s pointed those binoculars in my direction more than once, and he called in a complaint when Rachel was playing “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” too loudly to suit him one Christmas. But I’d never suspect him of clunking me on the head.
    Short Officer pulled out a notebook and looked at Tom. “Your name is?”
    â€œTom Bolton, 413 Secret View Lane.” He pointed across the street. “Lived right there for the past twenty-four years. I’m up by five or five thirty every morning. I like to get an early start on the day.”
    An early start on spying on the neighbors , is what I thought, but what I said was, “Tom is my good neighbor. He didn’t have anything to do with this.”
    â€œAbout what time did you look out and discover the door of the limousine open?” the officer asked Tom.
    â€œFive fifteen, five thirty, somewhere around there. I hadn’t had breakfast yet. Still haven’t had it.”
    His sour glance in my direction suggested this was definitely my fault.
    â€œDid you see anything else?”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œStrange persons, vehicles, anything?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œOkay, thanks.” Short Officer turned back to me as he put the notebook away. “Have you checked the interior of the vehicle?”
    I’d looked over the interior of the limo when I moved it from the street into the driveway, but I hadn’t checked inside it since I’d found myself stretched out beside it in my pajamas. “No, I didn’t even think about it.”
    â€œMind if we have a look inside?” Tall Officer asked.
    â€œHelp yourself.”
    The officers briefly inspected the interior of the limo, front and back; then Tall Officer motioned me over.
    â€œEverything look okay to you? Don’t touch anything,” he warned, as I leaned inside to look.
    I peered around. Nothing looked wrong or different, and yet, oddly, something didn’t feel quite right. The door of the little fridge hung open. Had I left it that way? Had the tarp mural always sagged like that? Had the curtains all been pulled shut?
    â€œI guess it’s all the same,” I said finally.
    â€œYou still think you fell, you weren’t struck with something?” Tall Officer asked.
    I hesitated, a smidgen of doubt surfacing. Could someone have clobbered me? I couldn’t actually remember stumbling. “Why would anyone hit me?”
    â€œWe’ll check the house. Someone could have gone inside while you were unconscious.”
    It was an alarming thought. Had I been knocked out by someone for the specific purpose of burglarizing the house?
    â€œI’d appreciate that. Thank you.”
    â€œWe’ll take a look around, then you can come inside and see if anything’s missing.” Short Officer turned to the crowd. “Okay, folks, fun’s over. Nothing’s happening here.” He waved an arm, gesturing them to disperse.
    The small crowd, with some reluctance, I thought, headed back toward their homes. Except for Tom, who apparently felt he had a