It was hermetic. Sometimes I didn’t mind. After all the noise in my life, the quiet was pleasant, even peaceful. I’d work out on his weight and exercise machines; I’d listen to music. I’d read; I’d take a nap. I was still very tired and sleep was a welcome refuge.

But sometimes the quiet left me alone with my thoughts, which immediately went back to that dark day. And that was never a good thing.

CHAPTER 13

AT TEN THE next morning, Decker glanced at the station house message machine. A plain red light indicated no one had called. McAdams was already at his desk. “You’re here early.”

“No, you’re later than usual.”

“I am,” Decker admitted. “Without Rina’s coffee, I decided that nothing was worth getting up for.”

“You can make your own coffee, you know.”

“I can, but my coffee doesn’t turn out like her coffee.”

McAdams smiled. The station house’s line rang and he picked it up. “McAdams.”

“This is Tanya Robertson. I believe you left a message for me.”

“I did. Thank you for calling back, Ms. Robertson. I’m putting you on speaker so my partner, Detective Decker, can hear.” He pressed the button.

“Hi, Ms. Robertson,” Decker said. “We’re looking for information on your former boyfriend, Brock Baer—”

A big groan. “That son of a bitch. What did he do now?”

“Uh, we’re not sure he did anything,” he said. “We’re trying to locate him—”

“Don’t ask me. I don’t know where that mofo is.”

“You know, he’s out on parole.”

“Yeah, I know. He came over to my house, when he was first sprung, asking for help. Can you imagine the nerve?”

“When was this?” Decker asked.

“When he was first released. About a year and some change ago. Asking me for help!”

“I take it you said no,” McAdams said.

“I said if he didn’t get his ass off my property, I’d call the police. Then he got loud—screaming and yelling and calling me names—as usual. I got out Sassy Sally and fired it in the air. I told him the next round of buckshot was calling his ass. He left.”

“And?”

“And that was it.”

“He didn’t return?”

“If he had returned, he’d be in a pine box.”

“Got it,” Decker said. “He posted some pretty awful things about you. Can I ask what that was all about?”

“What can I say? He’d get drunk and we got into it. Nothing new there. He slapped me around. Not new either. But then he fired a gun in my wall to show me he was serious. That was new. I talked him down. Finally, he left the apartment. I called the police, and when they took the bullet from the wall, they had a case to arrest the asshole. I think he got four years.”