Sirens broke the silence before Sloan could say any more about it. “Cops are coming.” She ran to the edge of the sidewalk and waved her hands in the air to signal where black-and-white cars needed to go. Two of them pulled up, one with Detective Mary Morgan in the front seat. She jumped out and ran to Sloan.
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. He was gone when I got out here.”
Detective Morgan’s steely eyes captured the entire scene in less time that it took Sloan to speak. “There’s no wheelchair marks. The grass isn’t disturbed.”
“He wasn’t in a wheelchair. He was walking. Remember? I told you that.” Okay, sure that was a difficult concept since the man was paralyzed and all, but she knew what she’d seen and she’d seen Boyd standing there all in black, looking in her window.
Detective Morgan held up her hand to keep back the other officers. “Sloan.” That tone… that tone adults used when they spoke to a child who should know better. Great. Just… terrific. “Boyd broke his back, remember? He can’t walk. He can’t even feel from the waist down.”
“Serves him right after what he did to Sloan.” Mackenzie grumbled, crossing her arms.
“Maybe.” Detective Morgan said. “But in any case, the boy couldn’t have been here because he can’t walk.”
“You’re sure. You’re one hundred percent sure he can’t walk?” It was Sloan’s turn to do the questioning.
“I read the doctor’s report, Sloan. Read all about his injuries. I saw him in rehab and talked to his physical therapist. His legs are weak. Limp. Unable to move. His PT thinks if all goes well he might walk again someday, but definitely not yet. There’s too much damage.”
Sloan let that sink in. She was glad he wasn’t dead, obviously. But it still hurt that she’d put him in a wheelchair. If he was in a wheelchair…
“Then who did I see?” It wasn’t a challenge. It wasn’t even a question, really. Who else if not Boyd? He looked exactly like him, and as far as Sloan knew, Boyd didn’t have an identical twin.
“Could have been anyone. Can you describe him to me?” Detective Morgan grabbed the little notebook she always carried in her pocket and the pen from behind her ear. She motioned for the other three officers to start looking around the area.
By that time, they were getting an audience of nosey neighbors. Sloan was in the middle of another police scene. Oh good gracious! She’d be the talk of the town again… as if they had ever stopped talking about her.
“I was getting ready, brushing my teeth. I looked in the mirror and caught a glimpse of him out here. He had on all black and his hair was a little longer than the last time I saw him, but it was him. One hundred percent him.” Okay, ninety percent him. She rolled her neck around to get the tension out. It creaked like an old screen door.
“And you ran out here?”
“Yeah. It was a shock, you know? Seeing him. I came out, and he was gone.”
Detective Morgan wrote down a few more things and closed the notebook. She slid it back in her pocket and put the pen back behind her ear. Sloan didn’t like where this was going. She knew Detective Morgan well enough to know when she didn’t believe her. That was sort of sad.
“Had you just gotten out of bed?” the detective asked.
“Yeah, but…”
“Do you sleep well?”
No… no… no… she wasn’t going to pin this on lack of sleep. “Not all the time, but…”
“Do you still have nightmares?”
Did the woman have to say that out loud? Not everyone needed to know that. “What are you implying?”
“Sloan!” Donna Livingston, sweet Donna from next door, came out of her house — no longer for sale — and made her way as fast as her walker would allow. “Are you alright?”
“Slow down, Ms. Donna! You’ll hurt yourself again.” Sloan felt horrible for worrying the lady. This was her life now. Summoning police and worrying people she cared about.
“I’m fine, sweetie. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“No, ma’am. I’m fine. I just… saw something.” She looked up at Detective Morgan. “Someone.”
“Someone.” Morgan tilted her head. “Are you dropping your claim that it was Boyd?”
“The Lawrence boy?” Donna asked, out of breath. The woman had walked more in the past five minutes than she had in the past few months combined. “Is he back to hurt you?”
“No. No…” Sloan began to question if she had actually seen Boyd. “I don’t… I don’t think so.”
“If you want my opinion, and you can take it with a grain of salt, I think it’s Monday morning and you are half asleep. You get up and go the bathroom to brush your teeth. You look up, see something that reminds you of your nightmares, and freak. It’s understandable. Anyone would have,” Detective Morgan said helpfully.
It felt the opposite.