Crazy In Love (Secrets of Suburbia #3) - Ivy Smoak Page 0,17
it was at my front door wasn't giving up easily. Please don't be Detective Torres again. I hadn't gotten a chance to put my rings back on yet because I was scrubbing up piss. And two days in a row was not going to look good.
Chapter 7
Saturday
I pulled back the blinds by the door ever so slightly and peeked out. Son of a bitch. Detective Torres was standing there holding a stack of papers. He turned his head toward the window as if he sensed my stare. I pushed the blinds back in place and pressed my back against the door. Had he seen me? I touched my forehead and felt the fake bangs of my blonde wig. Crap. I threw my wig and mask into the potted plant in the foyer and took a deep breath.
Detective Torres was a terrible detective. He probably didn't even remember what color my hair was last night. And he'd probably been looking at a cat or something outside, not me. I wasn't a suspect. I was an innocent housewife with a missing husband. Act the part.
I took one more deep breath and then opened the door just a crack, blocking any view he had of my foyer. Detective Torres was staring back at me with a somber expression.
He knows I kidnapped my husband. I tightened my fingers on the door. My taser was sitting in the pocket of my pajamas upstairs. There was no easy escape this time. "Detective." I shifted so that I could knee him in the crotch if he got any closer. Or at least slam his hand in the door as I made a run for it.
"Good morning, Ensley. The mailman was just dropping off your mail. And your paper from this morning was still on your driveway." He handed me the stack of mail and the paper.
I slid it through the small space between me and the doorjamb. "Oh, thank you." But I didn't mean it. He'd probably been going through my mail without a warrant. I pretended to drop the mail onto a table in the foyer. But there was no table there. So I threw it on the floor instead of abandoning my post.
We were both silent for a moment. Staring at each other.
What was I supposed to say? Oh, right. Play the concerned wife. "Is there any news about my husband? Have you found any trace of him? Like through security cameras or anything? Maybe he made some purchases on his credit cards that could pinpoint him at a certain time and location?" Don't mention credit card statements! They'll find out what I've been buying at the hardware store! "Not that credit card statements are accurate because of all the crime in this area." There was little to no crime in these suburbs. What was I even saying? But for some reason I kept going because he didn’t offer me anything. "Someone could have stolen all his credit cards and fled to California for all we know. Or maybe he was assaulted on his way to work and his credit cards were all stolen! I bet that's it." For God's sake stop talking. I pressed my lips together.
"Do you mind if I come in so we can talk in private?"
A few of my neighbors were passing by on their daily walk. I'd never been invited to join their blonde walking party. Instead of waving like I usually would, I kept my hand firmly on the door. Did Detective Torres really want to talk? Or was that just a ruse to get me alone so he could arrest me away from my neighbors’ prying eyes?
Either way, he absolutely could not come in my house. I hadn't had time to clean up the dishes from earlier. Two plates. Two glasses. Two sets of utensils. All of it was sitting on my kitchen island just waiting to be put into an evidence bag instead of the dishwasher. "I don’t mind coming outside. It's hot as balls in here. My husband always controlled the thermostat and I'm lost without him." Before I could slip outside, a loud crash sounded from behind me. I was almost positive I stopped breathing. I waited for another sound. Please don't scream. I was pretty sure my heart stopped beating too.
Detective Torres took a step closer. "What was that?" he asked.
For the first time, I realized that his height allowed him to see over my head into my house.