twenty-eight

Megan sat in the stairwell while colleagues, some familiar, some strangers, tracked through her apartment, excavating her personal space searching for prints, fibers—whatever would lead them to the person responsible for breaking into the lead detective’s Carnegie Hill apartment.

Nappa stepped out of Megan’s apartment into the hallway. They looked at one another, silently acknowledging the same notion: this is a different experience than last time we were here together.

“The doorman was on break. There’s one apartment moving out today, so movers were using the service entrance, allowing direct access to the basement. Anyone could have come and gone without—”

“Being detected,” Megan interrupted. The look in her eyes wasn’t filled with fear, or anger, but stout resolve. She remembered the declaration she’d made standing in the rain staring at her own image on the television. I am no one’s bitch.

“We need you to do a walk-through to see if anything was stolen.”

“Who is we? I’m still a part of the we, aren’t I?”

“Let’s do the walk-through.”

“Nappa, what the hell?”

“Let’s just do this and then deal with the next steps.”

She walked through her own crime scene, each step elevating her determination to hunt instead of being hunted. “I don’t see anything out of place.”

“Are you sure?” Nappa asked.

“As far as I can tell.”

“Your super’s changing the locks. Is he good—do you trust him?”

Megan waived his concerns away. “He’s great. I’ve helped some of his family out of a few jams, a nephew with parole officer issues. He has my back.”

“So do I,” Nappa replied.

Megan glanced up at him. “Good, ’cause someone has their eye on it.” Megan never admitted it to anyone, but every so often she wished someone other than herself had her back. Her father did, as much as he could, but it wasn’t a foolproof plan. Rose had demanded most of his attention when she’d become ill. Megan knew he was there in spirit, now more so than ever. But ever since finding her mother in the tub that one afternoon when she was young, she slept with one eye open, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. A killer breaking into her apartment sure sounded like a thud. She knew she couldn’t stay in her own home that night, so it looked like she was going to have to acquiesce to her brother’s request out of default: stay at her parents’ house. It’s not as if she’d be getting much sleep tonight anyway.