Instead of reaching into my shorts, where I knew I wouldn’t find one, I continued reaching for the knob, praying the door would miraculously be unlocked.
I casually turned the knob.
Nothing.
The knob had in fact turned, but the deadbolt above it was engaged, so it didn’t give an inch. Jeff the super had a set of keys and must have buttoned it up after the cops left. Inside the door, my lock was sticking its thick metal tongue out at me and laughing. I couldn’t shoulder it either. The bolt was top of the line, courtesy of a certain Alpha father, and fashioned from some sort of unbreakable titanium. I could probably rip the door off the hinges without much effort, but that would be a tad too suspicious in front of a detective when I was gunning for complete innocence of any wrongdoing.
I hesitated for a moment, trying to muster a reasonable way out of this.
“Looking for these?” A ring of keys bounced in front of my face like a cat toy.
I glanced back at Ray. His face was inscrutable, but his eyes were focused on me like two beady lasers. Hoping, I’m sure, to note some kind of major reaction on my part. And to add insult to injury, the smell wafting off him now was pure, unmitigated delight.
I was getting good at this sniffing game, the rat bastard.
When I didn’t answer, he said, “These were found in your purse—along with all the other goodies you’d think someone would need on vacation. Like your wallet and your sunglasses.” The cynicism dripped heavily. “Not many women I know who’d leave town without their purse tucked under their arm.”
I turned to face him, leaning back against my door. Then I crossed my arms in front of me, because I was already tired of this game and we were just getting started. “Listen, Ray. I realize you think I had something to do with this whole mess.” I jabbed my elbow into the door, indicating the mess in my apartment. “And you think I’m hiding a big, juicy secret from the world. Possibly hidden somewhere behind that door. In fact, you’ve been dogging me for a very long time trying to find out exactly what it is, making my life hard and increasingly more miserable along the way, but here’s the truth—are you ready? I’m not hiding anything.” Well, other than the fact that I’d just turned into a scary werewolf. “I’m not on drugs and I don’t deal them. I don’t have ties to the Colombians, and more importantly, I haven’t broken any laws. The truth is, my boyfriend and I decided to go camping at the last minute simply because the weather was beautiful.” Thank goodness it wasn’t tornado season. “It was just one of those happy, carefree decisions people make. He took care of bringing the keys, and I forgot to get them back. And while we were gone, someone trashed my place. That’s the end of the incredibly juicy story.” I reached up and snatched the dangling keys from his grasp and turned to unlock my damn door.
Ray’s voice hummed with contempt. “Really, Hannon? And where in the hell is he right now? Shouldn’t he be here with you, so he can unlock your door with his key? And help you see about all your troubles?”
“Nope,” I said as the deadbolt snapped open. “The last time I checked, I was a big girl who could handle her own problems.”
He wasn’t buying any of it, but I didn’t have much choice. Telling the truth was not an option and I had no other alibi at this point. Ray didn’t have any legal right to harass me in my hallway anyway, and as a former cop I knew my rights—but if I tossed him out I might as well just buy my own orange jumpsuit. I could call a lawyer, but lawyering up was just short of admitting you did it. I was hoping my apartment would be a big enough distraction, so we could focus on a new topic, like how I had nothing to do with any of it.
The door swung open.
My apartment was more than a helpful distraction.
It was a fucking showstopper.
My breath hitched in my throat. The devastation was complete. The apartment looked exactly how I’d imagine a frat house would appear after a night of disruptive partying by an army of hooligans bent on total destruction. There wasn’t a scrap of furniture in my living room left standing. The only nice thing I owned, an antique sidebar, which used to run along my living room wall, was now lying in a heap of broken wooden chunks.
I must’ve barreled into it from the side. A few times. Now it resembled a collapsed cardboard box, all the broken bits lying haphazardly at odd angles.
The rest of my furniture was scattered around the apartment. Literally. It was like a grenade had exploded my life into complete chaos. My gaze landed on my shredded couch. Stuffing erupted from the cushions like fluffy intestines, and both armrests were completely mangled. I must have pushed off hard, because the couch was clear across the room.
Damn, I liked that couch.