Harry
At six o’clock in the evening, Harry crept down Washington Street, searching the house numbers for Sarah Donaldson’s address. Some time had passed since his initial interview with her at the hospital following her attack. He hoped she remembered her assailant. He found the bungalow style house with faded siding and pulled along the front curb. A crack ran down the center of the step and the porch looked like a cement-eating animal gnawed off the corners. Harry cautiously mounted the porch and rang the doorbell. He checked his notebook for Sarah’s boyfriend’s name.
Someone fumbled around inside, slammed a door. It fell silent, so Harry rang the bell again. More noise ensued until finally the door swung wide. The man’s hair stuck out as if he’d just woken from a nap. “If you’re trying to sell me something, I’m not—”
Harry held up his badge. “Mr. Franklin?”
“What can I help you with?”
“I’m detective Hunter. I need to speak with Sarah Donaldson. Is she home?”
The guy’s forehead crinkled. “She doesn’t live here.”
“Are you sure? I have a few questions to ask.”
“She told you she lives here?”
“This is the address she gave police.”
“I kicked her out a while ago.” Franklin pushed the door to close it, but Harry held it open.
“You know where she lives then?”
“No.”
The door swung shut and again Harry stopped it from slamming.
“Don’t give me a reason to arrest you.”
“For what?” he asked incredulously.
“Obstruction of justice, and being a general pain in the ass.” Harry muttered the last part. “Tell me where she lives and I’ll gladly leave you alone. I’ve had a long damn year.”
“I told you I don’t know.”
“Then why were you meeting her at Wallflowers, huh? The night she was assaulted. Maybe it was you who roughed her up. Wanting a little revenge.”
The guy’s eyes widened. “Hell no! I didn’t touch her. She lives in an apartment downtown, above that tat shop that was in all the news.”
“Ink Addiction?”
“Yeah, that’s the place.”
Fucking fantastic. This was exactly the news he didn’t need tonight. The woman lived next door to Cam and above his other suspect’s workplace. When Franklin closed the door, Harry stepped back and off the porch.
He headed downtown toward Ink Addiction. Rudy sent him a text about Cam’s car. He read the message at the next red light. The search warrant had been signed by a judge. Apparently they stuck together and wanted Heidi Merlow’s killer found as much as her father. They doused it with Luminal and couldn’t find a trace of blood inside, including the trunk. The carpet had even been stripped and the floor pans checked underneath.
He tossed his cell on the passenger seat and parked at Ink Addiction, right in Mikey’s reserved spot since the shop was closed. The door to the apartment above the shop was next to the large windows, recessed into a dark alcove. Harry banged on the door because there was no buzzer. Everything was quiet for a couple of minutes then Sarah spoke through the door. “Who is it?”
“Detective Hunter, Webster PD.”
Several deadbolts unlocked and the door creaked open. A chain was still in place. Her face appeared in the gap.
“May I ask you a few questions, Sarah?”
She closed the door, slid the chain over, and opened up. “I don’t know if I can be of any help. I still can’t remember the man who attacked me. The doctor says I may never remember, that my mind blocked it out. Happens sometimes with trauma.”
“May I come in?”
“No, I…no…” She shook her head.
“I understand. Listen, the police station offers free counseling to assault victims. All you have to do is call the—”
“No, thank you. Is there anything else?”
“Why did you lie about your address?”
Confusion marred her features. “I didn’t, I—what?”
“I just came from Timber Street, spoke with Mr. Franklin.”
“I don’t remember telling anyone that. I must have gotten confused. My head hurt so much that night.”
Harry believed her. She’d taken a beating and was hit by a car. Sarah was lucky to be breathing.
“Hey, did the police ever find my car?”
“Not yet. Sure you can’t tell me anything about that night? Before the bar, did you stop anywhere on the way there?”
“Not that I remember. I was sitting at Wallflowers waiting for my boy—ex-boyfriend to show and he never did.” She closed her eyes. “What I recalled I already told you about. He had tattoos peeking out of his long sleeves. The next thing I remember I woke at the hospital. I don’t even remember the ambulance ride.”
Harry flipped through his notes, thanked her, and let her go back upstairs.