Operation: Normal (10 page)

"Was he visiting someone?" I asked.

Esme thought for a moment. "You know, I can't remember. I don't think so."

"Maybe he was looking for an apartment," suggested Zach.

"No." Esme frowned. "He has a very nice house in El Paso. He's a widower, you know.
His wife died of cancer two years ago. They never had children."

"Have you told the girls about him?" I referred to her daughters.

"Heavens no!" exclaimed Esme, clearly horrified. "You know what sticks in the mud
they are. Why, if they had their way, I'd be locked in a nursing home, playing Bingo five nights a
week, and I don't mean co-ed Bingo. No, they want me to live like a nun. They're that worried I'll
meet my Mr. Right and spend some of the cash they can't wait to inherit."

TMI! "What kind of internet are you going to use?" I asked, gently changing the subject.
"DSL, cable, phone?"

"Cable. A nice young man brought me this. " She took a modem box, a splitter, and a
cable from her desk drawer "And these. He said that was everything I'd need. We're supposed to
call this number when we're all ready to go." She handed Zach a piece of paper.

He made short work of finishing hook-up, then graciously called the cable company so
he could finalize everything for Esme, who chose "foxysenior" for her user name and "royslady"
as her password. Zach's lips twitched with suppressed laughter by the time he sat her down and
patiently explained how to use everything.

I made notes of each step in large print since I had a sneaking suspicion she wouldn't
remember any of this for long. I knew that she could barely work the TV remote. And as for her
typing style, well, Zach's calling it hunt-and-peck was way too generous an assessment. I mean, I
actually had to show her how to press the shift bar to get capital letters.

Zach and I returned the dolly and got on the elevator. We were still laughing about Esme
when we got off on five. I opened the door of the apartment and managed two steps inside before
I stumbled to a halt.

"Oh my God!"

Zach tensed and spat out a word that would definitely have made me cover Kayly's
tender ears...if I hadn't been so stunned by what I saw.

Someone had trashed the place! Totally.

"Stay put," said Zach, slipping past me. Stepping over debris, he headed down the hall
and looked in all the rooms, probably checking to see if whoever had done this was still in the
apartment.

I walked slowly into the living area. Nothing was where it should be, from the photos on
the wall to the toppled wastebaskets. It was like a tornado had ripped through the apartment and
tossed things in every direction. I barely noticed when Zach returned and uncovered Kayly's
walker, hidden under a misplaced sofa cushion. He put her into it.

I jumped when he took my upper arm and guided me to the rocker. Holding me with one
hand, he set the chair right side up, and then set me in it. A couple of seconds later, I heard the
refrigerator door open and the familiar
cush!
of a soda can being opened. He pushed a
cold Coke into my hands.

"Drink this."

As if that would help. I tried, but I couldn't swallow, so wound up strangling on it. Zach
squatted in front of the chair, his face inches from mine, and took the Coke back.

"Bad idea."

Our gazes met. I burst into tears, a reaction I simply could not control. I didn't know
when I'd ever felt so violated.

Zach cursed again and, dropping to one knee so he could get closer, hugged me really
hard. That only made things worse, of course, and black tear drops soon spotted his pale blue
shirt. Only when the Coke still in Zach's hand started freezing my arm, did I pull away from
him.

"Who would do something like this?" I asked with a sob, rising. "Who even could? The
door was locked."

Zach leaned back slightly and let me by. I wandered the room, stepping over the books
and magazines, broken dishes, and food strewn everywhere. Nothing remained untouched. Not
one single thing.

I headed down the hall to Mom's room and found her bed wrecked, all her dresser
drawers dumped, and her jewelry box empty on its side. A glance at the closet showed me that
someone had tried to pry open the file cabinet and failed, but had taken a lot of her clothing or
maybe tossed it someplace else. I didn't know.

By now Zach stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the jamb. I ducked under his
arm and ran into my room, which looked just as bad as my mom's if not worse. Lots of my
clothing seemed to be missing. With a gasp, I reached under the mattress and groped for my red
diary. Stupid, I knew, but at the moment I really needed something private to be untouched.

It was. With a cry of relief, I clutched it to my chest and sank down on the bed. I lay
back, eyes closed, and tried to catch my breath. The bed sank a little as Zach sat down by
me.

"You okay?" he asked again.

I covered my face with both hands, which left my diary resting on my tummy, and spoke
through my fingers. "No."

"I'm going to call the police." The bed shifted again as Zach got back up. I waited until I
heard him talking to someone before I got up and walked into the bathroom. Without even
looking at my reflection, I set my diary on the vanity and wet a washcloth so I could scrub off
my disguise. When Zach found me again, he sort of winced at what he saw. "Maybe you should
sit down."

I shook my head, picked up my diary, and walked back to the kitchen. The sight of
Kayly, smiling sweetly up at me in the midst of total chaos, was just too much. I started
boo-hooing again.

Poor Zach. He did what he could. He made me sit down again...or tried to. For some
reason I couldn't cooperate and began to pick up things in a stupid attempt to set them
aright.

"Leave it," Zach said, reaching out to stop me. "The cops need to see."

The cops. Right.

Nodding briefly, I walked to the laundry room for some reason. Once there, I turned on
my heel and walked back. Zach watched me, frowning.

"Should I call your friend? Was it Misty?"

"Minka. No."

"What about your boyfriend?"

"Heath's not my boyfriend."

"He's not?"

"No, and don't call him, either. Don't call anyone."

"Esme might--"

"No!"

"Okay. Fine. Just don't wig on me. I'm not sure what to do to help you."

"You can stay until the cops get here." I sighed. "If I get another Officer Cranford, I
might lose it completely."

"I'm not going anywhere." He looked around. "Maybe you should take inventory, at
least of stuff that could be carried off, though how these guys got out of here with anything is a
total mystery. This is one busy building."

"I know."

He glanced toward Mom's desk. "The PC's still here. The TV, too."

"And the refrigerator."

Zach looked sharply at me. I shrugged. He grinned, and then so did I. The next second
we were both laughing like loonies.

"Oh God," I said when I finally got hold of my roller coaster emotions again. I picked up
a couch cushion and put it in place, then sat down. Zach did the same just as the doorbell
rang.

"I'll get it." He sprang to his feet.

It wasn't another Officer Cranford at the door. It was the man, himself. Sensing that
Zach might be the one wigging out, I jumped up and took over, inviting Zach and the cop to sit at
the bar, after we righted the stools, of course.

"Parents still out of town?" he asked once I told him everything I knew, which wasn't
that much.

"Yes."

"Where's the nanny?"

"I let her go, actually," I admitted since it occurred to me that she might be our only
suspect. "The agency hasn't sent the new one yet."

He raised his eyebrows. "How'd she take being fired?"

"Not that well."

"Did your Mom give her a key to the place when she started working here?"

"I did."

"Did you get it back when she left?"

I nodded again. "But there's a spare." I slid off the bar stool and went into the kitchen to
check the ornate metal rack where Mom hung spare keys. The apartment key wasn't among
them. I told Officer Cranford.

"Did she have an opportunity to steal it?"

I thought back. "Yeah."

Officer Cranford wrote down everything I could tell him about Sylvie, plus the number
to the agency.

"That's it, I guess," he said getting to his feet. "I'll file a report and be in touch if I think
of any more questions."

"Aren't you going to dust the place for prints?" asked Zach.

"Or take photos or something?" I added.

The cop sighed. "We know who did this. All we have to do now is find her."

"Then I can start clean up?" I asked.

He nodded and left.

"I'm filing a complaint on him," said Zach. "Right after we take some photos. Do you
have a digital camera?"

"I did," I answered, walking to my bedroom to look for it. Oddly, it lay in the drawer of
the side table near my bed, untouched. I took the camera out and put my diary in before shutting
it.

"So they missed at least one thing," said Zach when I showed it to him. "I'm going to
change out your lock. Will you be okay while I run to Wal-Mart to get one?"

"Yes," I answered.

He started toward the door.

I stopped him with an outstretched hand. "Wait. Let me give you some money."

"It's on me," he said, and left.

He was gone longer than I expected him to be, about an hour and a half total, and in that
time I was able to find a pair of shorts and a tee, which I changed into. I also photographed every
room. When Zach got back he had someone with him--another UT student from the looks of
him, though much more nerdy than Zach.

After introducing the guy as Hal Doss, Zach confirmed my guess. Hal, he said, was
taking criminology. Zach had called and asked him to dust the place for fingerprints, then gone
and picked him up. I almost cried again, I was so relieved that someone, at least, had some idea
what to do.

While Hal went to work with dusting just like they do on TV, Zach used Mom's
pink-handled tools to change out the lock. Meanwhile, I tackled the kitchen. I put up any food that
hadn't been opened, unbroken dishes, and the tableware.

Hal left about thirty minutes after he got there, having printed the door facings and
knob, the cabinets, the bar stools, and whatever else seemed likely to have prints. He handed
them over, refusing my offer to pay him for his time and materials. He told me he owed Zach a
favor. I doubted it. I figured he loved working a real crime scene.

I started picking up the clutter in the living room, filling a thirty-gallon trash bag with
broken dishes, old magazines, and anything ruined beyond repair, including a vase and one of
Kayly's teddy bears.

Though exhausted and emotional by the time I finished that, I headed to the bedrooms,
which weren't nearly as hard to straighten. When Mom's room looked almost normal, I stopped
long enough to feed and bathe Kayly. Zach continued clean up while I did this and watched
while I put her down for the night. Not for the first time I thanked my lucky stars that she was
such a good baby.

In a couple more hours, the place began to look like home again. Thankfully, the
perpetrators hadn't opened up anything wet and poured it out, written on the walls, or pulled the
stuffing from pillows. Mostly they'd just turned the place upside down and deliberately taken
items with more sentimental than monetary worth, which made the whole thing more
personal.

At eight Mom called. I told her right away what had happened, and she freaked.

"Did you call the police?"

"Of course."

"Have they been out?"

"Been and gone."

"And...?"

"Since the spare key is missing, they think it might've been the ex-nanny, getting her
revenge."

"Oh, Ally. You need to go buy a new lock right now. Ask Buddy to install it."

"Already done," I told her with a glance at Zach, now standing in the kitchen.

"I'll try to get a flight out tomorrow. I'm not sure how successful I'll be. The Wimbledon
has just ended, and tourists are leaving the country in droves."

"We'll be fine, Mom."

"I'll call you as soon as I get a new ticket so you'll know when to pick me up."

"Okay," I agreed in my most soothing voice, hoping to make her feel better. I could tell
she hated being so far away just then.

When I finally shut my phone and looked at Zach, I felt bone weary and probably
looked it, too. "She's coming home. Said she'd call me with the details later tonight."

He nodded. "I figured. You still didn't tell her about the letter, did you?"

I shook my head. "Didn't seem to be much point."

He nodded again.

"You don't think the letter and this--" I swept my arm to indicate the apartment. "--are
connected, do you?"

"I honestly don't know, and I don't think we can trust the instincts of Barney Fife."

I could barely produce a smile. "I'd laugh, but I don't have it in me."

"I know. I'm leaving." He opened the door, then turned. "Call me when you hear back
from your mom, okay? Even if it's late."

"Okay."

"Lock up."

I walked to the door and did as requested the moment Zach left. Expecting him to test it
this time, I didn't even jump when he did.

I checked on Kayly, showered, and dressed for bed, in that order. Stretching out on the
couch, I soon found myself in the netherworld between waking and sleeping. Suddenly I thought
of my dad in that special way I couldn't have put into words. I grabbed my cell, which I'd laid on
the glass-topped table between the couch and the rocker. It rang in my hand. I checked the
number. It wasn't the one I'd saved.

"Allison, it's your dad."

"Wow," I answered, not really surprised that he'd called from a different number. "Two
calls in one week. What'd I do to deserve this?"