Chapter 32: An Intruder

The door creaked open. Grace hadn’t remade the bed so the intruder would know someone had been there.
Without a plan, she waited for a siren. Her teeth chattered as her hands sweat.
Two shots rang out sounding like puffs of air, then the footsteps retreated. A siren in the distance had Grace sliding out from under the bed.
The room went a hazy and she sunk to her knees hoping she could stay conscious. Relief sapped her strength. Her breath came out in rasps.
Footsteps again, but she had no will to move.
“Grace?”
Zach.
“I’m in the bedroom.”
Mark was on his heels. Zach knelt beside her and gathered her into his arms.
The colors danced, but Grace reveled in his warmth as she began to shiver. She clung to him as if he stood between her and death. Mark remained silent in the background. “The killer.”
“Did you see him?”
“Only his shoes and not a good look at them.”
“The back door has a broken pane of glass,” Zach said.
Grace blinked. That wasn’t right. Dolores had let her killer into her house. “But Dolores knew her killer.”
“What?”
“There was no sign of forced entry when she died. And the killer set the house on fire.”
Zach sighed and pulled her close. “Can you talk to the police?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t mention all this stuff. By the way, what were you doing here?”
Grace looked over his shoulder to Mark. “Someone was sleeping in my bed.”
***
Zach paced outside in the warm night while detectives questioned Grace.
Mark had disappeared when the police arrived. Zach thanked his stars for that. He found the squat man annoying and wondered hw he ever thought Grace would be his lover.
His phone rang.
“Holton.”
“Zach.”
Dolores. What was she doing up in the middle of the morning. The time on his watch surprised him. “He’d been here for two hours.
“Lors.”
“I heard there’s some trouble at my house?”
“How’d you find out?”
“I know other cops besides you. What happened?”
A crime scene tech dusted the back door for prints.
“Someone broke in and tried to kill Grace.”
“Grace? Who’d want to kill her?”
“Maybe they were looking for you.”
“Me? In Grace’s apartment?”
“They broke into your house.”
“Was anything stolen? Is Grace okay?”
“Slow down. Grace is fine.”
She walked out of Dolores’ house looking as if she’d been run over by a truck.
“Lors, let me call you back. In fact, I’ll come by later and I’m sure one of the detectives will be by to talk to you.”
“Okay. I’m getting out today.”
“Good.”
He clicked off his phone his attention riveted on Grace. He hung up on his past while walking towards his future. Some primitive part of him knew that Grace was what lay ahead for him. Liking the idea he quickened his pace.
The detectives waved then left. They’d talk to him later.
Her shoulders slumped so she looked bent in half.
Without thinking, purely on instinct, he pulled her into his arms. She shuddered. But didn’t pull away.
Instead her arms wrapped around him like a vise. Any part of her body that could, was touching his. His body reacted.
“Grace.”
That one word held for him a hope for the future. More than Dolores ever had. But what could he do? His job took up so much of his time and her talk about time travel and having been here before didn’t sit well in his rational brain.
“Let’s get you home.”
She shook her head against his chest, then stepped back. Her face became a study in composure as if she hadn’t been shot at. “I’ll be fine.”
“It’s okay. I’m here.”
Her head cocked. “I’m fine.”
Her voice came from deep inside of her, sounding hollow and far away.
“Someone tried to kill you tonight. You can’t be okay.”
“Someone tried to kill Dolores.”
He took her ice cold hands in his. “You don’t know that.”
“Why would they expect me to be there? No one knew I was sleeping there.”
“They went for the guest bedroom, not where Dolores sleeps.”
She nodded. “Good point. None of this makes sense.”
“Let’s have this conversation in your apartment.”
“Where’d Mark go?”
“I don’t know. He disappeared when the cops got here.”
She frowned. “That’s not like him.”
Zach figured it was completely in his character, but maybe he had a biased opinion of the weasel. Not in his best interests to criticize Mark, he didn’t comment. “Coffee?”
“No, I don’t need the caffeine.”
Grace sat on her open sofa bed, looking out the window into the dark night. The bags under her eyes had grown to steamer trunks. He searched for a glass then filled it with water.
She took it without looking at him. Not only didn’t she acknowledge it, she didn’t drink any either.
“Grace.”
“Yeah?”
Her gaze trudged over to him. “You want to stay at my place tonight? I don’t think you should be here. The killer could come back.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve said that several times and you haven’t convinced me yet.”
A sigh parted her lips. “Maybe I’m not fine. I’m a little spooked. I’ve never been shot at.”
“Can you remember anything about the person.”
She put up her hand. “I don’t need another interrogation right now.”
He sat, pressing his lips together. Once a cop, always a cop. What she needed was a friend since her best one wasn’t anywhere to be found. “The detectives will need to talk to Mark.”
“Mark? Why?”
“He was here. He may have seen something or heard something.”
Her head shook. “Mark sleeps like the dead.”
An uneasy feeling swept over him. She knew some intimate details for such a platonic relationship. “Well, they need to hear that from him. Do you know where he would have went? Does he have any friends in town?”
“None other than me that I know of.”
Her exhaustion was written on her face, but he couldn’t let it go. They had to find Mark. “Think, Grace. Would he go to a hotel? Did he have a frequent flyer card or one of those ones from a hotel chain.”
Her gaze slid away from him. “I don’t know, really. Can I just go to sleep?”