“I need to call the police. There are gunshots outside and screaming. I have to call and get help,” I told him, not wanting to hang up. I was terrified, and knowing that Mase was on the phone gave me some comfort. Even though he could do nothing.
“Fuck! Get on the ground. Lie flat behind your sofa. Don’t move or answer the door. Call the cops now. Then call me back,” Mase ordered, then ended the call.
My hands were shaking as another gunshot sounded. Voices were yelling unintelligible words along with the screaming. I crawled over to the sofa and lay flat behind it, then tried to call 911 as the panic set in. The numbers on my phone began to shift and blur. Tears of frustration filled my eyes.
My body jerked as I sobbed, trying to figure out where the 9 was, but then the police sirens joined the noise outside, and blue lights flashed through my window. I dropped my phone onto the carpet and covered my face with my hands.
Taking deep breaths to calm down, I listened as more sirens joined the scene, followed by an ambulance. But I didn’t move. Not once.
I lay there as the screaming stopped, but there was still yelling, and people were crying. I was afraid to move, even though I knew the police were outside now.
A knock sounded on my door, and I froze. “Police,” a loud voice called out.
Police. At my door. Oh, God. I had to get up. My legs were shaking horribly, and my heart was still racing.
The knock came again. “Police!” he called out again.
I grabbed the doorknob and looked through the peephole. There was indeed an officer at my door. His determined scowl only terrified me more, if that was possible.
Opening the door, I stared at the man.
He flashed me his badge. “Officer Milton, ma’am. I need to ask you a few questions.”
Me? Why me? I nodded and forced myself to take a breath.
“Did you see anything?” he asked, standing there as the lights flashed and the sirens whined behind him. Someone was covered with a plastic sheet. Bile rose up my throat, and I squeezed the doorknob to keep from falling when my knees went weak.
“Oh, God,” I managed to whisper.
“Do you know Melanie and Jacob Sanders? They live three doors down from you.”
I shook my head no. I didn’t know anyone who lived around me. Except Jimmy. I had kept myself closed off from everyone else. But three doors down, there was a married couple. I had met the husband, unfortunately. He had given me the creeps. I had been walking to the car one day, and he’d whistled and called my ass “luscious.”
“I don’t know them. I only know Jimmy . . . Jimmy Morrison. He lives in apartment two D. He was just here before . . . Oh, God! Jimmy was just here. He had to walk to the stairs to get back to his apartment. It happened right after he left.”
The cop’s expression softened. “Jimmy Morrison is fine. He’s the one who called in the disturbance. He saw most of it happen and is currently giving his statement. He knew the victim.”
My phone was ringing. Mase was calling me back.
“If you remember anything, please call the office. Jimmy will have confirmed that he’d just left your apartment. If he doesn’t, we will be back to talk to you. I do need your name, for the record.”
“Reese Ellis,” I replied, as my phone stopped ringing and started back up again.
“Thank you, Miss Ellis.”
I nodded and closed the door as the cop walked to the next door. I bolted it before answering my phone. “The cops were here,” I told Mase. “They asked me a few questions.”
“You’re OK.” He let out a sigh of relief.
“Yes. Jimmy saw it. He’s with the police now, giving his statement. I’m not totally sure what happened; the police didn’t even tell me who the victim was, but a married couple a few doors down were involved somehow. All I did was hear the shots and the screams. Nothing more. But Jimmy was out there. He could have been shot.”
“But he wasn’t. Don’t think about that,” Mase said in a firm voice.
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. He was right. I didn’t need to dwell on something that didn’t happen.
“Did you lock your door?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s bolted.”