Outside, the trooper stood with his back to the broken door. His voice was low and authoritative. “I understand from what I read in the paper, a lot of stress was put on you. But I can’t be going to pet shops asking about Preacher.”
Rath didn’t want to hear the legal, procedural rationale, not while Preacher was following Rachel. For now, Rachel needed to leave this apartment. She could live back home, for a while; Felix, too. If they slept in separate rooms. Rath was not naive, but he wasn’t prepared for Rachel to share a bed with her boyfriend under his roof just yet.
Even if she came to live with him for a spell, she would need to get to campus daily for class, do her work-study at the library, be in public, visible.
“Well, did he?” the trooper was saying.
Rath forced himself to attention. “Did who what?”
“Preacher. Did he explicitly threaten your daughter?”
“Mentioning her name is a threat. He murdered her parents. But he’s too clever for a direct threat. He was saying sick shit.”
“What sick shit?”
“Lies. Meant to unnerve me.” Rath was not going to tell this trooper, or anyone else, especially not Rachel, that Preacher had claimed to have slept with Rachel’s mother several times while working as a handyman at her home, claimed he was Rachel’s father, and was going tell Rachel that. Tell Rachel how if her mother had just been with him one more time that day he’d stopped by, instead of rejecting him, she’d never have been raped or killed. She’d made him do it. Pushed him. It was her fault.
“If he made no threat, there’s no need for action,” the trooper said.
“I don’t take chances with my daughter.”
“If you’re concerned for your daughter’s well-being—”
“If,” Rath said.
“—then do what you feel best. But unless something is out of place in their apartment, I can’t extend resources to this episode.”
Episode. The trooper made it sound as if Rath had suffered a breakdown.
“Let’s go see,” the trooper said. “Honestly, part of me wants there to be no reason to help, that this guy, sick as he is, was toying with you, but is harmless.”
“You have no idea who this guy is,” Rath said.
Inside, the deputy said, “The two young persons have noted nothing of concern in the apartment.”
“Is that accurate?” Rath asked Rachel.
Rachel nodded, her fingertips peeking out from her coat sleeves. Her face showed bewilderment. Her lips seemed to tremble, but Rath knew she was whispering to herself, preparing questions for him as soon as the officers left.
“I’m sorry about the door, miss,” the deputy said. “I’m glad everything is OK otherwise.”
The trooper surveyed the room a last time. “Do what you feel you need to keep her safe,” he said, and Rath understood the trooper believed Rachel was in danger, but was straitjacketed by the law. Unlike Rath.