Reggie was tempted to curl up in a ball, but she forced away the negative thoughts. Dwelling on the bad never helped.
Dylan sat in the slashed up easy chair while she parked herself on the cushionless sofa.“I guess you’re still in love with him, huh?” Dylan eyed her, his voice distant.
“I’m not in love with him, and never was. He was so sweet at first, but the longer we dated the nastier he became. It’s why I broke up with him. He has this wild idea I left him for someone else, but the truth of the matter is…” She hated to admit it. It made her feel weak, powerless. Biting her lip, she looked at Dylan. “The truth of the matter is, he scared me when he’d lose his temper.” She got up. “I need to check my sugar level.”
Dylan followed her to the kitchen and leaned against the counter as Reggie pricked her finger and smeared the drop of blood on the testing strip. She placed the strip in the meter and waited for the numbers to pop up on the screen.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not really. I don’t even think about it.”
“How long have you been diabetic?”
She shrugged and opened the refrigerator, grateful Dylan had thought to bring food with them. “Since I was born as far as I know. I guess Mom didn’t want the bother of a sick child. Who could blame her?”
“Do you consider yourself sick?” Dylan asked.
“Not really. But it is something I hate. It was one of the reasons foster homes kept sending me back. I felt like a freak, like I had a contagious disease and if they touched me they would catch it.” The question surprised Reggie. She pulled out the cheese and meat from the refrigerator.
“I’m really sorry you had to go through all that.” He came up behind her and touched her hair.
“ It’s just a condition I have to manage. I’m no more sick than someone with asthma. I’m stronger and healthier than a lot of people.” Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to let him hold her, comfort her, take her hurt away. I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to send him mixed signals. Reggie carried the snack to her round dinette table and set it down, then went back for silverware. “Time to eat.”
“I know you’re going to love this bologna.” He held up the ring of brown lunch meat. It reminded her of summer sausage. “The only place it’s made is a small town called Trail south of Fredericksburg.” Dylan opened the freezer and gave her a now-chilled bottle of water.
“Looks a little spicy for my taste.”
He sliced a piece off and handed it to her, then continued cutting more.
“Mmm. Not bad.” She reached for another piece.
“I told you. Too bad I forgot to buy mustard. Spicy mustard goes great with it. Try it with the Swiss cheese.”
Dylan entertained her with family stories as they ate. When they were finished, he stood. “Time to get back to work.”
“I guess I’ll mop.” Reggie groaned inwardly, but it had to be done.
An hour later, they both threw themselves down in tattered chairs in the living room. The only thing left was to vacuum.
“I sure love spending time with you, but I’m glad we’re finished.” Dylan said.
“I don’t know how to thank you. There’s no way I could have done it by myself. I would have given up and gone to bed.”
“Pshaw. It was nothing and I doubt very much if you would have gone to bed. I have a pretty good idea you’re a lot tougher than you feel right now.”
She shrugged. The past few days with Dylan had been wonderful. He anticipated her every need. Sweet and kind and helpful. A person could get use to this kind of treatment.
She smiled at him. Her heart gave a flutter as he smiled back at her through half-closed eyes. Stop it. It would never work. Just because he was a hunk and sweet as could be didn’t make him dating material. Besides, she could never be comfortable wondering if he might lose the farm and livelihood like the Starks.
“What are you going to do now?”
“What do you mean?” For one uncomfortable moment, it was as if he’d known her thoughts.
“You can’t stay here tonight.”
His question almost brought on the tears once again. She’d better toughen up or she’d never become the great lawyer she planned to be. “I am not leaving my home.”
“Those weren’t BBs in the door.”
“I know.” She held up a hand. “But what am I supposed to do? I can’t just run away. This is my home.”
“Don’t you have any friends you can stay with for a few days until the cops figure this out?”
Before Reggie could answer, her phone rang. As she walked to the phone, the doorbell rang. She looked back and forth.
“You take the phone. I’ll answer the door.” Dylan said.
She nodded.
****
After glancing through the peep hole, Dylan opened the door.
Officers Pettry and Montgomery were grim-faced. A woman stood with them.
He motioned them to come in.
Reggie’s voice filled the tiny apartment, her ear pressed against the receiver. “Look, Trent. I didn’t tell them you shot at me. In fact, I told them the opposite. But after the mess you made in my apartment, you became the most likely suspect. Nothing I could do about it. It’s your own fault.”
Dylan watched her take a deep breath. In a flash, he saw her strength reappear. She stood straighter and her shoulders went back. Right before his eyes, she transformed from victim to attorney.
“Trent.” Her voice was iron strong. “Do not call me again. Monday morning, I will get a restraining order. I’m sure with the reports of the police standing in my living room at this very moment, it won’t be a problem. And if I even see your shadow, I’ll call the cops. You got it?”
Dylan heard Trent yelling as Reggie quietly replaced the receiver. She looked at the group. “Trent.”
Dylan felt like clapping.
The other woman had a tired face framed by a short bob, sprinkled with gray. She was dressed in Levi’s and tennis shoes with a brown corduroy jacket. The overall impression spoke of casual professional. “I’m Detective Cindy Sellers.” She fished a badge from her pocket and showed it to Reggie. “I’ve been assigned to your case, Ms. Meyers.”
“You talked with Trent, from what he told me between the ranting.”
“Yes.” The woman stared at Reggie as if assessing her state of mind.
Dylan sensed the next words were not going to be comforting by the look on the detective’s face.
“Trent didn’t do the shooting. The bar where he drinks happens to have a surveillance camera. The video shows him at the bar before, during, and after the shooting.” Her graveled words were short and clipped. Holding her pen like a cigarette she tapped the notebook in an anxious beat. Deep lines grew vertically from her upper lip.
Dylan recognized a fellow smoker and offered her slice of gum.
“I never believed he did, but he vandalized my apartment. He admitted it to me on the phone.”
“He admitted it to us as well. Do you want to press charges?”
“I just want him to leave me alone. If I press charges it will prolong our relationship, and I want it to be over.”
“If he bothers you anymore, call me.” The detective leaned close to Reggie. “Sometimes, the only solution is to press charges. He was pretty shook up when I talked with him. I don’t think he’s going to bother you anymore.”
“We need to find the shooter before he tries it again.” Dylan followed them into the living room.
“What makes you think Reggie was the target? Could have been you?” Detective Sellers looked at Dylan.
“If I had been the target, they would have shot at me while we were at my house, not hers. This is only the second time I’ve been here.” He joined the other officers leaning against the wall. “And besides, I’m one of the good guys.” He pointed at Reggie. “Just ask her.”
Reggie rolled her eyes. “He does appear to be one of the good guys, but I’m reserving judgment.”
“Whoever it was, they weren’t playing around. They used a .357 Magnum.” Detective Sellers looked back and forth between the two of them.
Dylan whistled. “You’re right. That’s a pretty large caliber, meant to do serious damage. What are you advising Reggie to do? Is it safe for her to stay here or what?”
“Let me put it this way. If she were my girlfriend, she wouldn’t be staying here.”
“You heard the man, but it’s up to you.” Dylan looked at Reggie.
“I know. I know.” Frustration seeped in her voice. “I’ll call a friend.”
“We have a few more questions before you leave and we’ll need a number to reach you at.” Detective Sellers told her.
“Of course. Sit down.” Reggie gestured at her ruined furniture. “Most of the stuffing’s out of it but it’s better than standing up.”
“Actually, several of your neighbors weren’t home before, so we’re going to interview them while Detective Sellers talks with you. We might get lucky. Someone might have seen something or noticed an odd person on a different day.”
After Montgomery and Pettry left, Cindy took a tape recorder from her pocket and held it up. “Is it OK with you if we record this?”
“I don’t mind at all. Just let me get mine and we can both record it.”
Dylan hid his smile. The tough lady lawyer was back.
“Why do you want to do that, Ms. Meyers?” Detective Sellers sounded perplexed
“For the same reason you do, Detective Sellers.” Reggie walked out of the room and returned with her mini-recorder. After setting it on the coffee table, and each recording Reggie’s consent for both the interview and Dylan’s presence, the questions began.
“Who do you work for, Ms. Meyers?”
“I’m an apprentice for a law firm, Benton and Greene. I mostly work with contracts and I’ve assisted on a few criminal cases.”
“I’m going to need copies of those cases. Did any case stand out to you? Maybe an angry client?” The detective opened up a container of mints, offered them to the others, then popped several in her mouth.
“None come to mind at the moment. No one angry enough to shoot at me.”
Dylan wanted to wrap her in his arms. She looked so small curled on the sofa, her doe-like eyes tired from worry.
“Keep thinking about it. You’ve made somebody unhappy.”
“Unhappy enough to want to kill me?” Reggie shook her head. “This whole thing is so bizarre.”
“What about your family?” Detective Sellers adjusted the volume on the recorder and pushed it closer to Reggie.
Reggie took a deep breath.
Dylan grimaced, feeling bad she had to tell it again. He couldn’t imagine life without his parents.
“No parents. I grew up in the foster system in Pennsylvania.”
“Oh, sorry.” The detective looked up from the notes she was taking.
“It sounds worse than it was.” Reggie looked over at Dylan. “I was doing OK until a few days ago. Now, my life appears to be falling apart.”
The doorbell rang again. Dylan answered it.
A tall woman with curly brown hair and glasses stood on the threshold.
“Alexis. I was going to call you.” Reggie jumped up and went to the woman.
Alexis scanned the room, seeing Dylan, the detective taking notes, the recorders, and the slashed up sofa and chairs. Her eyes grew wide. “What is going on? I’ve been trying to call you all day.”
“I’ve been a little busy.” Reggie gestured at her ruined apartment.