Shit. Shit. Fuck!
I moved to the door, hoping I was schooling my features.
Then I opened it and my eyes darted between the men, hoping I looked surprised and curious.
“Uh, hi. Can I help you?” I asked.
“Does Tyrell Walker reside here?” Ty’s parole officer asked.
“Yes, this is Ty’s home. I’m Ty’s wife, Lexie.” I looked at Fuller then Frank and back to Ty’s parole officer before I whispered, “Is Ty okay?”
“Yes,” I heard Samuel say from close behind me, “is Ty all right?”
“And you are?” Ty’s parole officer asked.
“Samuel Sterling, a friend of the family.”
“Right,” Fuller muttered and I watched Ty’s parole officer twist instantly to throw him a glare.
Then he turned back and looked at me. “Mrs. Walker, I’m Jamarr Gifford. I’m your husband’s parole officer. We’re here to perform a random inspection of your home. This is normal procedure for parolees, as I suspect you know.”
I nodded, stepped back and hit Samuel who didn’t move so stopped but spoke. “Yes, I knew this could happen. Ty told me.”
“That might be so,” I heard Samuel say from behind me and I twisted my neck to look up at him, “but wouldn’t such an inspection occur when Mr. Walker was in attendance?”
“We –” Jamarr Gifford started.
“Perhaps you should return when Ty is back,” Samuel suggested.
“No,” I cut in when I felt the vibe change and not in a good way. I turned back to the door. “It’s okay. You can do it now. But, can Samuel and Deke and I stay while you do this? We won’t get in your way.”
“Of course, Mrs. Walker,” Jamarr Gifford said, stepping in and the men behind him came in with him, fanning out. “We’ll do our best to complete this quickly,” his eyes went to Fuller and he finished on what sounded like a warning, “and without disruption or disorder.”
“Okay, well, go for it,” I invited then said, “And you can call me Lexie.”
Jamarr Gifford’s eyes came to me, he did a quick top-to-toe then nodded, all business. Then he turned and nodded to Officer Frank and Keaton and he and those two men moved forward.
Fuller planted his feet apart, his arms crossed on his chest and glared at me.
I pressed my lips together.
Samuel did not. “Are you not participating in the inspection?” he asked Fuller.
“I’m the Chief of Police,” Fuller answered.
Samuel didn’t miss a beat. “Is it protocol for the Chief of Police to attend a random inspection such as this?”
Fuller’s face twisted as he replied, “It’s protocol for the Chief of Police to do whatever he wants, includin’ makin’ sure this shit ain’t no farce,” he paused and his eyes moved, I followed them and saw he was looking at Gifford. “Seein’ that it’s all in the family,” he concluded, his point not even slightly vague.
“Right,” Samuel whispered, his anger not even slightly hidden. Then he asked, “Can I have your name?”
“What?” Fuller bit out.
“Can I…” Samuel paused, “have…” another pause… “your name?”
Fuller rocked back on his heels on a stubborn, good ole boy, “Nope.”
“Arnold Fuller,” Deke piped in and I swallowed back a hysterical giggle.
“Thank you,” Samuel said to Deke then his hand came to my waist lightly and he murmured, “Lexie, why don’t you come back, finish your soda. Okay?”
I looked up to him, nodded then moved back to the island.
Then I sipped my soda as men moved about my house inspecting things.
Five minutes later, I watched Keaton come down the stairs, round the railing and stop five feet from the island.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Walker, but there’s a safe upstairs I’ll need you to open.”
I nodded, put my drink down and moved. Samuel started to move with me, I stopped and said softly, “It’s okay, Samuel. Ty has nothing to hide.”
He gave me a close look, nodded and settled back on his stool.
I led Detective Keaton back up to the safe, trying hard not to feel creeped out that this man was in our bedroom and in our closet and hoping he didn’t paw through my underwear drawer.
I knelt down in front of the safe and opened it for him, getting back to my feet and stepping out of his way. He crouched in front of it and reached in.
Then, I didn’t know why, but I spoke.
“Detective Keaton,” I called, his head tipped back and his not at all unattractive blue eyes locked on mine. And when they did, I knew why I spoke.
Because his eyes were haunted.
“I…” I started on a whisper then softly went on, “suspect you know that Misty wasn’t my favorite person.” His eyes flashed then shuttered and I hurried on. “But even so, I’m sorry. It was a shock to hear what happened to her. She didn’t deserve that. No one does. I met her once and she…” I trailed off then forged on, “I’m sorry, really, really sorry for your loss.”
He stared at me.