“He live here? Your neighbor said a man shared the place with two young women.”
Charlie considered what she could say. No matter what name she gave, his prints were all over the house. The minute they ran them, they’d discover Edmund Carver wasn’t dead. And they would believe he was the killer. “That was my boyfriend, Vincent. But he moved out.”
“Last name?”
“Damiano,” she told them, wondering if such a person even existed.
“What’s with the message?” one of them asked. “Do you know what it means?”
RED.
The color of blood. The name a boy gave his shadow.
Never name it. Raven’s words echoed in her head. But children named everything. They named teddy bears and goldfish in duck ponds and pieces of gum on the sidewalk. Of course Vince was going to name his shadow.
Perhaps it had come looking for him, like the shadow in the fairy tale. Perhaps it had mistaken Adam for Vince and then became enraged when it realized it had the wrong person. Or it killed Adam for Vince since he had a grievance. Or it had come looking for her, and saw an opportunity for some fresh blood.
And then it signed its work.
“I don’t know,” Charlie told them.
One of them walked behind her, jerking one of her hands behind her back. She felt the cold metal of cuffs. “I think you better come with us. We’ll go down to the station and you can make your statement.”
“Am I under arrest?” Charlie asked.
“I’m giving you a ride.” He was a short guy with broad shoulders and dark, curly hair. His badge was shiny. He told her his name was Officer Lupo as he led her out to the car and pushed her head down as he got her into the back seat. Neighbors had come out of their houses in bathrobes to check out the drama. Charlie wanted to wave, but she was cuffed.
The big brick building housing both the police station and the fire department was only a few blocks away. It wasn’t long before she was being led into the station and put in a back room with a big table. They asked her for her fingerprints for “elimination purposes” and she let them press each finger into a pad and then onto a paper. They asked for her license and she handed it over. They wanted her to unlock her cell phone, and she did that too. Mostly, they left her alone in the room, coming in once or twice to check on her.
After about forty-five minutes, Detective Juarez rolled in, looking as though he’d just been roused from bed, and not happy about it.
“You again?” he said when he saw her.
She didn’t say anything. What was there to say?
“Does this have something to do with what happened in Rapture?” he asked.
Charlie shrugged. “If it doesn’t, I guess I’ve got the devil’s own luck.”
“What was this Adam guy doing in your house?” He looked at his notes. “You knew him, right?”
If you want a lie to pass the sniff test, it helps to put your worst foot forward. “He was cheating on his girlfriend with me. After he broke it off, I told her. Day before yesterday, he came after me in a hospital parking lot and beat me up pretty bad.”
“Did you make a police report?” he asked, studying her face.
“I guess I should have.” She didn’t doubt he believed her about getting knocked around, though. The makeup she’d done was okay, but she’d been wearing it for hours and she was sure that her bruises were showing through. And nothing could disguise the swelling.
After that, someone brought her a coffee, but that was the only consideration they gave her. The questions went on and on, doubling in on themselves. Most of them were about Vince, but she was asked about Doreen too, Charlie’s hours at work, when she’d come home, what she’d touched. Over and over, Charlie asked if she was under arrest.
Finally, they said she could go. Told her to stay away from the house, since it was an active crime scene. Cautioned her to stay by her phone, that they would contact her again.
“There’s too much weird shit in the world,” Officer Lupo said to one of the other cops, under his breath. “Not all of it needs to be washing up around here.”
Charlie was on her way out when she passed Doreen, wearing pajamas, a trench coat, and UGG boots. Her face was blotchy and tearstained. When she saw Charlie, her eyes seemed to roll back in her head.
“You,” she said, her voice so guttural that it seemed like she was making sounds more than words. “You did this.”
Charlie wanted to snap back at her, but it wasn’t fair. Doreen had loved Adam, and even if he had been terrible, he was dead. “Look, I’m sorry that he—”